deep in (my) heart, of Texas

deep in (my) heart, of Texas

this weekend, i went to texas. for the first time ever.

my friends were getting married. they’d both found jesus, a city they loved, and an apparent cache of similar interests, so they put some rings on it. and they did it in texas, on a grassy knoll somewhere in hill country. and it was beautiful, y’all.texas

i hail from the west; where the skies are big, the mountains majestic and the air, well, arid. i miss the unwelcoming breeze of the desert. the sand whipping your face, the tumbleweeds, the twisted barbed wire and homely homeless horses. the bulging agave, pink sunsets, the drone of far-away prairie toads and the scream of coyote families perched atop faraway hells echoing that piercing cacophony brightening the stars. the clouds soar high. the darkness comforts.


the wedding, out there in the hill country, was lovely. they said their i-do’s, the little sister made a blubbering mess of herself. the cake was in gluten free cupcake form and i ate a lot of it.

after the bride and groom made their virginal passage into the marriage consummation. and as they ran through the human glow-stick tunnel, the rain came down like it does in the movies. and we ran in the rain to our car and across the brimming, surging prairie as the flood-waters rose and the skies opened and the lightning, well lit the sky like the 4th of july.


we went out that night. we ran through the flooded streets of austin in our high heels, our three piece suits, our bow ties and bobble earrings and half-smoked celebratory cigars.

i was drenched. my mascara ran down my face, my hair curled, my beau’s long, dark hair hung over his soft brown eyes and for a moment i was lost in the tempestuousness of our relationship, the storm floating above us, effortlessly.


it rained in texas for seven days straight. the streets began to flood. and we left for home, for arkansas. we piled 5 people in a gas-guzzling automobile. and we thought about the rain, and the prairie and the towering buildings of austin and the live, twisting oaks.

and the branches reached out and twisted their way about my hair, my face, my heart. somewhere in texas, it pulses as the rains come and go.



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