I just want to tell you that I still call you home.
Well, just tonight I was tucking Hannah in and I told her, "The next time we go home, we can take that ring to James Avery and they can polish the scratches right out."
She was quick to point out with a whisper, "Momma. You called it home again".
It's just in my bones, honey. I can't help it. Growing up with the smell of hot dirt blowing around the 5-acres that I
Oh, how I love me some hot dirt. Especially if we can mix that with an afternoon of pushing the wheelbarrow 'round & 'round the perimeter of our property when it is say ONE HUNDRED O' TWO DEGREES, picking up rocks, to prepare for the 3 hour session of mowing all that hot dirt ... well all the better.
That kind of joy just never goes away.
Seriously, I do love the Texas summer. Even the blazing hot summer. And I miss those mild winters where I could change out my flip-flops with my suede fringe boots.
I also miss my bluebonnets, Tex-Mex, back roads, and big sky.
I miss the waving stranger, the "yes ma'm", and the certainty of Dr. Pepper at my local drive-through burger establishment.
I miss the normalcy of cowboy hats, ya'll as proper grammar and tortillas.
Help me. I think I can smell the tortillas.
Now I am salivating for the food so I might as well go there.
Mrs. Bairds, Blue Bell, Big Red, Braums, Pappadeaux, Whataburger and good donuts.
Mexican food, Mexican food, please can't someone in Virginia make SOME DECENT MEXICAN FOOD???
Sorry. It started with the tortillas. I have gotten a little bit off track.
What I am trying to say to you, Texas is that I still love you ... but I gotta come clean.
Virginia has a piece of my heart. Because even though you have given me so much ...
You fail me here: