Back At The Ranch
“Oh, sorry about that” said the girl in her mid twenties sitting in 17C. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” I assured her it was a 3.5 hour flight and it was bound to happen again. That reassurance however, did not stop her from voicing her apologies every single time it happened.
It was after about the 5 or 6 “sorry about that” that it was more than clear that she was heading home back to Texas and was most certainly just a visitor of NYC. I mean don’t get me wrong, New Yorkers get a bad rap for being mean or impolite, and a lot of them deserve that reputation, but I think the rest of us are just in too big of a damn hurry to same “sorry about that” once let along another 10 times.
It was this passenger full of kindness that would be my first exposure to Texas hospitality. No I had heard everything was BIGGER in Texas, not NICER but it certainly seemed to be the case as I went for the first of I’m sure many trips to visit my family.
This is the second house in a row of my parent’s that I had to walk in and say, “well, where’s my room?” It’s kind of a cool feeling…There is all this newness, all this beautiful new space (and lots of it, as I said everything is BIGGER in Texas), but yet there is this strange feeling of familiarity.
I had seen the entire family just a few months ago, but that’s the great thing about a close family it’s like we had dinner the night before. The same ball busting and laughter picks up right where it left off…
After all it’s those things, the little things that make a family and make a home. That why, even though I didn’t know this house from any other on the street, I was my home before I even set foot inside. It’s funny that way…I consider NYC to be my home, but not my apartment, that’s just an apartment after all and here’s this house in Houston I consider home too…
Thanks for listening