We’re blasting country music in my car when my sister looks over at me and says You know, I think we were always meant to be in Texas.
I had the words but as soon as I started typing, they disappeared.
I wanted to write about how it’s been a year since I moved here.
About how in two months it will be a year since I met the person I am going to spend my life with.
I want to write about hundred degree weather that never seems to end and the way you never notice how much of a miracle rain is until you can’t remember the last time you felt it against your skin. I want to write about how hot the water coming out of the faucet is all of the time. How it is impossible to take a cold shower ever.
I want to write about how my father has quit drinking (again) and how every time it happens, my sister and I still hold our breaths hoping this will be the time that it lasts. I want to write about how I no longer feel anger towards him, just this great sadness for all of the things that could have been.
I want to write about my grandfather’s stage four lung cancer and how he insists that the most important thing to do right now is to pray. I don’t tell him that I can’t remember the last time I prayed with any conviction. I want to write about a fifty year marriage and how in the world do you ever have the strength to start preparing for goodbye.
I want to write about how my dog sprained his back. About how scared I was waiting for the x ray results. About how I need Tuna in my life for years and years to come.
But most of all, I want to write about how much I have learned about love in this past year. About how maybe I never really knew what it was before. About how much I am growing all of the time. I want to write about the woman I am and the woman I am becoming.
Soon. Soon there will be words for all of this.
