Ten years ago, I arrived in Austin, Texas from Boston, Mass. Alone, in my little Volvo, I drove the two thousand miles to an empty apartment with an air bed, clothes and a good knife for cooking. Oh and odds and ends of poetry to start grad school. This is not very special because many people transplant for grad school.
Did I say I 43 and I had left home? I was. It was the first time I had lived alone. Ever. In truth it was only until the house sold in Boston and then my husband would join me. But I was a mom at 20, and here I was: no kid, no cat, no husband, no mother. . .AND I was in Texas. In August.
Texans are not like the Inuit peoples, there are not one hundred words for heat or hot unless you start adding a variety of adjective, some more colorful than others. One learns these expressions fast when one has never seen a thermometer go over 100 before or left the really expensive lipstick in the car, even in the shade. (It was a very pretty puddle of goo.)
And so began my education in Texas. Lot’s more to tell so y’all come back!