To Love Houston Is to Accept That Making Sense of It Is Futile
Our exit from Houston in late 2018 was swift and messy. An official from Singapore Airlines took one look at our bulging bags and said they seemed overweight. The scale confirmed his hunch. We flung out everything that we deemed expendable in those moments. Heavy, light, useful, useless, important or …maybe not. We were ruthless in getting rid of kitchen items, clothes, food, and even mementos that had been carefully selected to make the journey with us. Once we were on the plane, seat belts fastened, and after catching our breath, the accumulated stress of the move—exacerbated by our unexpected, hectic luggage trimming—began to sink in. “It’s okay,” my husband said, rubbing my shoulders. “They were just things.” Until that moment, I hadn’t been able…View Original Post
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Source: Texas Monthly