i was in galveson, texas probably ten or twelve years ago to visit an old friend of mine who’d moved away from the chicago suburb we grew up in. we’d kept in touch over the years and in fact one of the photos i saw at my highschool reunion on saturday had her in it, even through she’d been a texan for years at that point.
i remember that trip well because my friend, liz, took me to my first (and only) texan rodeo and when she got all gussied up for that excursion she had a pink plaid cowgirl shirt on along with a cowboy hat and cowboy boots and that was the moment i realized that you don’t need to grow up in texas to be a cowgirl.
liz always had a million dollar smile and big, gorgeous eyes, and as we strolled around the rodeo she joked with me about her new life as a southern belle as she fawned a deep southern drawl and we laughed at the idea of her as a texan.
later her family had a huge crawfish boil and we stuffed our faces and i saw the foundation of liz’s long, happy life in southern texas.
i asked her yesterday if her parents still lived in galveston, knowing she and her husband and their kids live in delaware now:
“My family is still in the Galveston area… we were actually suposed to leave for vacation on Wednesday but had to scratch those plans. My huband’s parent’s just finished building a beach two months ago on the West End of the island (underwater now). Everyone evacuated and is safe and sound… but looks like it will be a while before things are back to normal. Thanks for asking!”