Many moons ago, I lived in a remote town of Tejas. Old as the hills and dry as the desert sands. Lockhart, TX. A little “working town” outside of Austin, where men held doors and women knew what standing by their man, meant. We move a lot over the years, but this home became a pivot point in my life. When everything around me seemed to be in flux, and I felt at times to be in a free fall. The hub of a spinning wheel of thoughts and emotions as I made the transition from hopeful into realistic. It remains the most harrowing, and strangely romantic time of my life.
Walking out of work this morning amidst an early October chill, I smelled it again and my heart ached. That indescribable scent of the early morning dew beginning to seep into the earth beneath my feet as the sun fights it way through the clouds to greet us. It will always bring me back to The South. I long for the solitude and the pain of those days. Days when the whole world felt like an exposed nerve, so painful and so immediate that the future and the past became meaningless. The only thing that existed was the desolation of the moment. Clear skies tinged with oranges and reds, and the sounds of wind rustling the tall grass surroundingredients mesquite trees. The shadows dancing over ranch and surrounding outbuildings; the cattle at the edge of the field beckoning me to follow.
These days stumble on towards a future that I cannot see. Yet I know that somewhere at the end of these wanderings I will return. Return to a different time and place perhaps, but unmistakably to the South. Back to the silent musings of southern charm where I can breathe and watch the world change around me. The still point that stretches a moment into eternity and calls my name with a sweet longing and promise of more.
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