Kind-of Homesick

Today, I miss Texas. I cannot really place my finger on what I miss. I just miss telling people I'm from Texas.

I think the sadness started a few weeks ago when I had to renew my driver's license. I went to the local DMV with all my paperwork in hand, including my expired license. After all the computer work and the miserable photo, the nice guy handed me my new Arkansas license. He politely smiled and wished me a good day. I immediately got the deer in headlights look and asked, "So, you keep my Texas license." He then explained that it was the law -- something about people creating fake ID's. I got to the safety of my car and cried. I know it is silly, but I had the same Texas license number since I got my learner's permit when I was 15. It was a faithful friend -- a part of my growing up into adulthood. This week, I had to go to the doctor. For the first time in 20 years, I had to pull out my wallet and look up my license number for the paperwork. It was a sad reminder of my new reality.


Then, on HGTV, some of the shows they've shown this week have been on homes in Texas. Just flipping the channels, I can tell from some of the architectural details that they are showing a Texas home. There is a difference that I cannot explain -- I can just tell when I see it. Of course, I stop and watch the entire episode -- just to catch a look at Texas. I even recorded one so I could look back at it. (I KNOW!)


It's not that I don't like Arkansas. And, I for sure don't question my reason for being here. I just love my Texas roots, and I miss the familiarity that came with living in the same state for 25 years. I knew the Texas way-of-things very well and today -- I miss it.