Chapter 26: Texas

I assumed that I would always be a Texan. I married a Texan. We made our life among the ancient oak trees and raised our kids among the bluebonnets. We had become accustomed to the culture of BBQ, cowboy boots, big trucks, and even bigger egos. It was our home.

At least until June.
And then, it became our past.

The weeks leading up to The Move were pure chaos. We spent months getting our condo fixed up, only to sell it in one day. We juggled craigslist buyers, boxes, and good-byes – all while maintaining the routine of school, work, and life.

Our dear friends threw a Texas-themed going away party. It would be our final hurrah.

A thunderstorm raged as we trekked through the city to their house. Roads were flooding. Wipers sloshing. Then, as soon as we pulled into their driveway, the rain suddenly stopped. It was as if some other force was orchestrating the entire event.

Once inside, we sipped on margaritas, while outside, the kids captured frogs. We smiled over fajitas and filled each other in on the latest news/gossip/plans.

It was as it always had been. Sharing meals. Memories.







The night was perfect. We danced on the lawn, then took way-too-many pictures of the bright, burning sunset. We laughed/cried. And laughed/cried some more.

There were promises of visiting. And good, compelling intentions. But there, lingering, was the space in between. The knowledge that things would be different. And that the chapter, This Chapter, was closing.

You know that trite, almost tart, saying “Better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all”? Well, it’s true. Spot on. I will always cherish the time we had in Austin. All the firsts. And all the lasts. I have no doubt that we are the people we are today because of the experiences, relationships, and seasons that shaped us.

Texas is no longer our home. But I love telling people that it’s where we’re from.