Back in Texas

May 29, 2018

My husband (I had to say that instead of "Jamison" because it sounds so official) and I went to Ikea this week (I had never been before, but that's a story for another time). Towards the end of our excursion, we stumbled upon a rack of cowhides. They were definitely real. I buried my head in one and inhaled.
I instantly felt like I was at home. Back in Texas, even in the suburbs — where I knew nobody with a ranch — I would go to restaurants or Western stores and it all smelled like leather. Pure, clean, and country.
I don't think I'm quite as attached to Texas as I should be. I love it there, and I was eager to tell people we talked to on our honeymoon that no, we're not from Utah, he's from Utah and I'm from Texas. Texas was my home for 18 years though — part of it will always be my home.
Yesterday I was driving with the windows down and I stumbled upon the familiar stench of a dead skunk. Was I in Texas again? And today, after making a morning Target run, I was driving on the main road outside of our apartment and took in the smell of cows, and grass, and dirt.

"Home" is such a weird concept. I don't think I've felt like a place has really been my home for the last five years. Provo never felt permanent, but Dallas wasn't the same anymore. I'm sort of in this weird in between where nowhere is my home but someone is. Jamison, my mom, David, Fonzie, Alex, Alissa, Khadeeja — I could go on and on. I miss Texas and my childhood house and our dogs and good Mexican food and delicious BBQ, but for now I guess I'll just live where I am and trust in others to help me feel "at home" when I'm with them.
I miss you Texas. Hopefully we meet again sooner rather than later.

Yours truly,

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