Back to my roots

I’m setting out on the road again in the morning.  This time I am heading north.  Back to visit places and people from the past.  Sometimes the best place to go is back to the place where you grew up.   I believe that where you grow up will always play a part in the person you are.  I don’t consider myself a Kansan.   I left when I was 18 and never really looked back.  Texas was “home” from then on.  It’s been years since I’ve been back to the flatness, the wheat fields, the trains rumbling at night and the simplicity of life that never seems to change in a town of 2,000.

The flatness can be unnerving at times.  The miles and miles of nothingness daunting.  But as you look into the miles and miles that stretch in front of you and the sun begins to set, colors I have never seen anywhere else in the world fill the sky and Kansas makes up for all it’s faults.  Those sunsets are what I pray my heaven will look like.

I’m looking for a little peace and tomorrow driving north on Interstate 35  I think I will find it.  Austin in my rear view, then Dallas, the Red River, Oklahoma City and then I’ll be back on the dirt roads of my youth.  I hope they are as ready to see me as I am to see them.


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