It will sound strange, but those of you who know me probably expect strange from me at times.
I woke up yesterday and headed to the Memphis airport. Memphis where I was born & raised, attended grad school & am living now. It’s where I have family and fear friends. I love the river, the enormous oak tree that shares its space with me. There is a vibe to the city, it has a rockin’ blues great music, etc. That’s home.
After flying more than 2 hours, I landed in a place where the soul is red and tumbleweeds can be found. With a dry climate, my body tells me lotion is a good idea. I realize everything moves to a decidedly different beat. Cowboy boots instead of blue suede shoes. There are fewer tall office buildings and more grain elevators and wind turbines.
It is a strange place.
Yet, there is an unmistakable feeling of home for me here too.
I have been to Lubbock so many times. It started out for work what seems like a lifetime ago. There has always been a lot of cotton here, and that means people I share something in common with. Even when I was an intern and did all interviews by phone, I was meeting people from the High Plains.
I’ve developed favorite restaurants & dishes, and I’ve made so many great friends. Friends so dear, I’ve traveled out here for a wedding. I’ve been among the first to meet a baby. My friends here are the kind of folks you call when something goes wrong with your camera on an important day and they make things work. The sort of people who welcome you into their home at a moments notice and sit up talking & laughing til late.
Yep. For me, Lubbock feels like home… Yes, I am hundreds of miles from my house, but somehow, I’m home here too. Even the license plates on the pickups seem to speak to me.!