The Eternal Tourist

Michael just got back from a quick trip to Fort Worth for business. He got to see our son and cat Winston. On his return he made the most interesting remark last night. He said he was surprised how little the D/FW area seemed like home. I was shocked and wondered if I would feel the same way when I had been here a few more months. He arrived in early January but I didn't get here until March.

I posted one of my favorite pictures that shows how much the Dallas area is part of my heart. The photo of Michael's sister Katie reminds me how much joy and excitement she can find in life whether she's dodging a cyclone in Myanmar/Burma or watching a bunch of tuba players oompah their way through Christmas carols. TubaChristmas at Thanksgiving Square is a tradition that I will really miss.

In a way, I hope I never get the feeling that this is home. The reason is that I am an eternal tourist here. It's like being on vacation all the time. How exciting is that? Last night we just drove around a neighborhood in Dallas (PA!) to look at the beautiful yards. The architecture, the trees, the flowers, all remind me how different it is here from any place I've ever lived. And I got online to look at some church historical sites in New York and realized that Niagara Falls is only five hours away. Niagara Falls for goodness' sake! How exotic and faraway is that for a girl who grew up in Shreveport, Louisiana?

I'm hoping that Texas will always be home just like Louisiana has always been home. I'm willing to add Shavertown and Wilkes Barre to the list of places that mean home to me if I'm allowed to never feel quite at home in a part of the country where the names of towns have such amazing cultural associations: Niagara Falls, Watkins Glen, Philadelphia, Gettysburg, Annapolis, Brooklyn, Atlantic City, Palmyra, Manhattan, Hershey, Rochester, Bethlehem and I could go on and on.