In Comparison

 

my weird plastic smile with no teeth – probably cause I’m thinking
“snap the dumb photo, I’m eatin’ queso here!?

A couple weeks ago we attended our old ward with some friends and afterwards had a lovely brunch at their house.  There was a new couple there who had this grand idea of moving to Boise, Idaho because her husband works from home and they have been trying to find the perfect city in which to raise their family. After all the comparisons were done, Boise had ample shining points. 

Every couple in the room sent them to us for confirmation.  It was a good thing that Big Guy wasn’t in the room.  All you have to do is mention Boise and his eyes gleam like he’s just been twinkled into the Valhalla.  Our Boise years were good years.  The grass is thick and lush, and it is a beautiful thing when you can jump and roll upon it like an outside carpet.  We loved the parks and river system running through town, the wilderness just beyond, the barely four seasons that came in delicate expression just enough to make you feel like you were living change but not with any great ferocity that made the season a permanent blight upon your days.  Mostly Boise was very family oriented, the zoo was inexpensive, each season heralded a new festival or family event.  There was much to love.

They asked, of course, what we thought of Texas and my answer escaped my lips before I even thought about it.   “It is what I imagine Hell is like, you are being boiled so slowly you hardly realize that you are in it until it is too late.”  This look of horror spread across their faces, but it was too late to soften my response.  And I had to explain that our first few years here were not a gentle introduction.  Is it better?  In some ways.  In many ways it is the hardest place we have ever lived and we feel hardened for it.  But I think that has less to do with Texas itself and more to do with how we were delivered here and then how we were wrapped and unwrapped in this place.   It was more like a violent nine year old birthday party.  We were pert and tightly little wrapped gifts that have been shredded, ransacked and left scattered upon the ground.  Lessons learned in Texas are hard.  The drought is severe.  The fire ants are an unholy terror and have ruined the ground for me forever.  The grass is tough like straw.  The spiders are gigantic beasts with armored skin.  The snakes fill the ravines, crevices, even the lake has a host of snakes slithering through it.  The weather can only bear winter for two weeks, there is a fall with no colors for one month, spring with bluebell carpets for one month and summer for the rest. 

But then Texas does have its good points.  There is nothing more exciting than a tornado warning, or a general every day storm which truly feels like it might rain us right into the un-diggable ground.  The sky is mesmerizing.   I try not to stare straight at it while driving for fear that it’s beauty may captivate me and I’ll drive right through a field of cedar.  There is nearly every kind of food on the earth here, even in our small grocery store.  Sometime I still want to lie down in the produce aisle and make pretend snow angels in an aisle full of vegetables.  Friday Night Football is more intense here, there are always enough days in summer, we can be active year round and I almost NEVER EVER have to wear socks, or pajamas to bed.  You can stand in the rain without getting cold, you can eat brisket and sausage until your pores ooze bbq sauce, is there any other place in the world where the bats congregate by the hundred thousands?  And the good people…are like water to a starving man in the desert…I could drink wisdom from my good friends for all my days.  And in the end, I wonder sometimes if I could ever move away now that I’ve boiled myself good and tender.  Then I remember the cries from my most recent neighbor who found herself moved to Park City, Utah.  She mourned over the phone…for queso…her kingdom for some queso!

I have to admit, it would be very difficult to leave behind the queso.