The City
Ah, Houston. Moved there in 1962. Left in 2009. Sort of. I still went back to work, for a while. Eventually, however, I came to call the Hill Country home. But I doubt it will ever outshine the bayou city. After all, two-thirds of my children are still there, along with numerous old friends, several of my doctors, all my favorite sports teams, my high school, my college, and forty-seven years of memories. That’s a lot by any measure.
I found myself back home, sort of, yesterday when I drove in for movie night with the two youngest grandchildren. We snuggled up on the big couch and covered up with a blanket. There were snacks and a delayed bedtime. I was gifted with a piece of Halloween artwork. There were assurances I’d be there in the morning, and then suggestions I stay two nights on the next trip in. It was agreed. They drive a hard bargain. When the parents returned, they brought me a skewer of Korean beef that was soft as butter. Good babysitter pay.
Truth be told, I think my wife would have preferred playing out her days right here. She literally grew up here, starting in Pasadena as a wee child. And she always told me how much she missed Alvin, our final home before we relocated. But that was then, and this is now. And what’s done is done. Still, it does feel oddly comfortable to hit the city limits of this big old town, drive the crowded streets, and feel the pulse of the city. It makes me wonder sometimes if the place I loved can perhaps fill in for the one I loved given how much time we spent in the city’s warm embrace. Food for thought.
John W. Wilson is the author of the Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale