- Having a college team. And really bleeding for it.
- Chick-Fil-a everywhere.
- Going ‘driving’ with no destination but Braum’s and back home.
- Eating without judgement. Things like lamb fries at the state fair*, smoked fried chicken from a food truck in the hood, and massive chili cheese burgers with a milkshake.
- The sound of locusts in the trees during the summer.
- The independence of the Cowboy spirit. The Americana of Country music.
- One tank of gas lasting forever because the land is flat for miles.
- Being tough and unafraid of puttin’ some elbow grease into somethin’ to git ‘er done.
- Businesses that still close on Sunday because customers (and employees) should be with familiy.
- Watching Gary England warn his audience of dark, heavy clouds as a prelude to the destructive winds of a tornado–with the front door open, looking out to see if the storm will hit at 6:17 p.m.**
- Those old, gravel roads in the country. Where cows and horses roam on acres of farmland, carved out from short trees and shrubery. Where a country girl’ll get out and walk barefoot in the middle of July. Where you can see every star in the sky, uninterrupted, on a clear night. Where I come from. Home.