Dear West Texas,
You are flat.
Like see 2 miles down the road flat.
You are full of dust and dirt.
You give new meaning to the word windy.
Tumbleweeds are for real.
You often either smell of feed lot or oil fields.
Could you please make up your mind about the weather?
One day you are hotter than you know where,
and the next I'm shoveling out our suburban from under 8 ft. of wind blown snow.
You aren't much to look at, really.
Yes, I said it aloud.
Or wrote it, rather.
You’re pretty ugly.
Except for those sunsets.
Yes, those are the best.
in your hands you hold my most favorite childhood memories.
Of summers gone by too quickly.
Of cousin shenanigans...
painting the "H" house,
four wheeler rides,
climbing into the forbidden cotton bins,
and "running away."
You are a treasure trove of memories for me.
And now, my kiddos as well.
And I love that.
For all your stinky stink and wind,
you are still one of their very favorite places to visit.
In this life of military moves and of heartbreaking goodbyes,
you, West Texas, feel like home.
It’s not where I’m from,
But really it is.
You are the place where my gypsy heart
feels most at home.
Funny how going back to the place that I grew up as a child
doesn't hold the same treasure that you do.
Sure wonderful memories are surely there,
but home is different isn't it?
You're where I was so, very lost.
Where I met my Love.
Where I thrived playing the sport I loved most.
where I was finally found.
Truly, this military life holds no home for our family.
We are always keenly aware that we are just
aliens.Foreigners until Jesus returns.
But still, it's a blessing to have just a taste.
Just a little taste.