In Texas, I get lost.
Two lane roads open into four lane highways, and concrete consumes old pastures. Overpasses pile up like skyscrapers, and I grow restless behind the wheel of a borrowed car. Everything has changed.
I ride the freeways like a foreigner, holding my breath and missing my exits and circling the city until I find something familiar. Something constant.
The cemetery where my mother is buried. The houses where I grew up. The road to my Uncle’s home–as it rises and falls–on the way to celebrate my grandmother’s birthday.
I get lost in these images.
Then later, with a warm afternoon breeze on my face, the sound of cicadas send out their call in waves, like a radar. And I think, This is what it means to be home, the pull of memory: of easy conversations with my cousins, my sisters, my father, our time apart irrelevant; the feel of my grandmother’s hand in mine, her skin worn and fragile after 90 years but her spirit strong.
I carry all of this with me into the next morning as I board a plane before sunrise, hold tight each moment for several days after. For as long as I can, because I know it may be a year before I return.
Before I get lost again.
Your blog post brought tears to my eyes once again. Your ability to share an experience is phenomenal. I felt the loss, I felt the tenderness and I felt the love as I read your piece. You have so much to share with the world…and I’m so honored to be your mother-in-law! Love you!
Thank you, Pat. The feeling of honor is mutual. xoxo
That’s a powerful piece of writing there, my friend. Hold those moments tight. Thank you for sharing!
Thanks, Vaughn. I’m always amazed at the rush of emotions every time I go home. And, I’m so glad there are certain things about it that don’t change (even as the landscape might).
Christi, this is a marvelous bit of writing. It really tugged at my heart. Also, “I get lost in Texas” is a truly great first line. Maybe you can do something with this piece.
Thank you, Beth. For your comment and your suggestion!
You captured going home so perfectly. It feels the same when I go back to Alberta.
Thanks, Darlene. I’d love to hear about your return to Alberta. I’ve never been there, but I imagine it’s an amazing place!
Oh, Christi… what a beautiful post. I, too, am home at the moment and stood outside tonight listening to the sound of crickets, cicadas and tree frogs and was pulled back by memory as well – despite all the changes to the scenery, to the people I love, to the place I once called home.
Thanks, Melissa. Enjoy every minute at home! I’m sure you’re taking some great photos as well. Can’t wait to hear/read about it.
Yes. Home. Your writing took me to Texas, but also to Minnesota. And although my grandmothers have been gone for many years, it warms my heart to hear of others having time with theirs. Hold on tight to those memories. Beautifully written.
Thanks, Sarah. I am SO glad I was able to be there for her birthday.
I enjoyed the journey with you. You have a wonderful talent for bringing the reader into your world. I lived in Texas for three plus years, and I was always getting lost. In that short time, though, I traveled a territory that became familiar. My grandparents’ home in Ohio is the closest I can imagine as home, because they lived there for so many years, and it was like a second home to me. After they passed away, I’d drive by that corner and gaze at the great, old house with all its memories. I still miss my grandparents. If I ever wanted to visit my roots on this earth, I’d drive past their old home. Blessings to you, Christi…
Thanks so much, Carol. I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s gotten lost in Texas! And, like you, I don’t think I’ll ever tire of driving past the houses that hold so much memory for me.
Beautiful. Really enjoyed this.
Thank you so much, Nina.