Yesterday was one of those days.
Yesterday brought back a list that neither my children nor I often experience living inside the loop in Dallas:
- Crossing a rusty cattle guard and opening the gate to a grassy, mesquite tree filled pasture
- Sitting on a wrap around front porch avoiding the dirt dobbers dashing about our selected spot
- Feeling the soft breeze off the hills of central Texas while attempting to stay in the shade
- Walking across uneven cracked, linoleum floors to stand in front of a cool window unit air conditioner
- Listening to the sounds of dirt bikes and the hoops and hollers of the riders
- Stepping around cow patties and prickly cactus
- Watching bursts of color all around us as both the real kids and grown-up kids set off fireworks purchased from a beside-the-road stand
But the best part is intangible and hard to describe. Growing up with cousins, aunts, uncles and life-long friends in a small town has a cadence. To recapture that rhythm and the associated chaos even for an afternoon is a gift.
Commuter Husband, Oldest Son and I spent Sunday in Jacksboro, Tx. We were welcomed into our friends' slice of Americana where the relationships are the unrivaled part. While we were technically the outsiders, we were easily embraced by the gathering of kin. Land and a house tie this group's past, present and future together. They are so fortunate.
And for a day, we were fortunate too. The thought of the chirping cicadas as dusk rolled into a night filled with big bright stars brings a smile even as I type these words ...
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