Love Letter to Texas

Reflection is a tool for the settled. As a confirmed gypsy soul, I’ve never once felt settled in my entire life, until January of 2015. Right about that time, I realized that in a sea of politicians who loathe everything about my politics, an ocean of citizens who truly, passionately believe their state is better than all others (most of whom have never visited and have no desire to do so), and right up to my armpits in a land uniformly focused on empowering businesses and leaders that are devoted to ensuring that the United States most certainly does NOT move in any progressive direction…right about that time, I realized I was happy.  I’m not talking just full of giggles and amusement, people. I found serene, calm, peaceful, beautiful, and graceful joy.

It happened all at once. I decided that I needed to get more exercise, so I committed myself to walking the kids to and from school with my new Spring semester teaching schedule. Every morning, I dutifully packed two lunches, scooped up papers into two backpacks, laced up my black and white Nikes, and took off the 0.6 miles to their school, the 1.3 miles around to the “back lake”, and the 0.4 miles back to our front door. I would then do a little yard work, say hello to Ms. Doris who lived across the street, and then pop inside to poach an egg, toast an English muffin, and make a French press of coffee for breakfast. I’d grade some papers, tidy up a powerpoint, plan my lectures, then settle in for some morning television before I cleaned the house and then walked the 0.6 miles there and then back to the school to grab the kids and come home in the afternoon and get ready to teach night classes. Brutal, hectic, beautiful.

No heart racing anxiety at the solitude.

No panic at the echoes of my own mind.

Just birds chirping, productive silence, and the occasional maudlin lady-rock album.

And then, glory! came the Valentine’s day dance.

I joined the PTA in August at Parent’s Night, as good Texas suburban moms are supposed to do. At that same Parent’s Night, JDH and I spotted a couple we(I) instantly new we(I) wanted to befriend. They had a little dude in baby A’s class, hovered over him at his table, and generally screamed “WE MIGHT/MAYBE/PROBABLY SHARE SOME OF YOUR VALUES BECAUSE WE ARE G – A – Y, GAY!!!”

Because, dear reader, you know we left our gaggle of good progressive gays in North Carolina to move to Texas and I mourned the loss of my liberal paradise with vigor. Gays? In the suburbs? In Texas? What had we found?!?

It turns out, we’d found two of the best, funniest, most committed parents/people/friends in all of Texas. Further, one half of this unexpected power couple was a PTA juggernaut and my door into the mysterious world of friendships with women.

She was there at the setup for the dance.

I am not a leader or a person who wants to be in charge in the PTA. I am a worker bee – service oriented and comfortable with being the person who is there. I show up. Whenever, whatever, and for any crap job that needs done.

I showed up for Valentine’s Day Dance setup and got noticed as being vaguely familiar (which makes sense as I’d been accidentally photobombing these people for months). I struck up a conversation with L, mentioning my kid talked about her kid a lot (true) and wasn’t that such a coincidence, (lie – I’d been trying to work up the guts to speak to her for months) and mentally made a note to speak to her again at pickup on Monday. It worked. I got invited to “Taco Tuesday” and met a whole gaggle of the kindest, most engaging, and genuinely nice women I’ve ever met.

I cannot express to you the magic behind this group of women and subsequently, the entire neighborhood. It opened up to me after that Tuesday. With the approval of L, I was in with the cool kids. Play dates. Cups of coffee on the porch. Spring break plans – it was all on the table! The president of the PTA and I drank beers on my porch. The treasurer and chair of fundraising and I counted chocolate money at our taco place over breakfast. We made weekend plans, our kids got to know (and love) one another, and we generally got along.

So, Providence was perfect and by proxy, Texas became something I didn’t bear, but embraced. I found a community in which I could play a small part and it felt amazing. It was incredible to feel that sense of belonging again, when I had been sure it was lost.

And then, the news: Big A was seeking a promotion, one that would allow me to go back to school. Nirvana! But wait – what about our paradise?

Ultimately, friends, you know the answer to this question. We are four days into our new move – crossing the country once more to a new beginning.  The idea that I won’t ever have this magic again – these women again – is terrifying. But I keep returning to L, the catalyst to my happiness. She and eventually her wifey C opened the doors to my joy by making me feel brave enough to speak out loud in a group of very diverse women united by our dedication to our children.

We might return to Providence someday, I hope we keep these people collected in our long term repository of love and friendship – but if we don’t, I am determined to take the lessons I learned in that serene and verdant copse and share them.

I intend to show boldness and honesty in spirit and conduct., to remember grace and acceptance of diversity of all types. Commit to the benefit of the group and the welfare of all. And above all, find the willingness to say, “hello” on the first day. With these values, new communities can be built and love can be discovered. So thanks, Providence.