Two Worlds
Roamed the streets of Pearland yesterday, and Manvel, too. The latter is where we landed after vacating Pasadena in the mid-90s. We rented because we didn’t know how much we’d like country living. Turns out we liked it a lot. And after two years we bought our place in Alvin. Six acres with a barn and a well and a septic. We lived at the end of what was once Houston’s forgotten highway, 288. It led south out of town in a direction no one was going. Until now.
Where once the road was dark as night after passing the south loop, now it’s a real freeway with a toll road to boot, which says people with money live out there and are willing to pay for the convenience of driving without traffic. Because this toll road is expensive and is run by a private company. It can cost almost $15 to get into town during peak hours. And there are big box stores and fast food places and all manner of retail establishments. And subdivisions. Lots of them. It’s nice in a way. Things are convenient.
Sometimes, when I come to visit Houston, I think how nice it would be to reestablish myself in the city. To be close to museums, theatres, symphonies, baseball, and doctors and hospitals. To be in the heart of the action. Sometimes. Then I think about what it’s like to have a little space around you. To step out into the night and find it dark and see stars and hear cicadas and crickets. And then I realize it’s nice to have a foot in both worlds, sampling the best of each. I believe it’s called balance. I’m lucky to have it. Grateful, too.