I always pause when asked the seemingly very simple question: where are you from? Born in Texas, raised in Rock Springs, Wyoming, Houstonian for nearly a decade, now an Islander. We moved a bit with my dad's oilfield job when I was younger, but ended up in Wyoming by the time I was nine. I went to school with the same people from grade school up to my first year of college. I made best friends, learned to drive there and subsequently wrecked my first car there. Drank my first beer there. (This is sounding like a country song). But seriously.
I feel lucky to be shaped by so many places, and blessed to be able to question where I am from.
I drive like a Houstonian (a little crazy), and can confidently navigate big cities. I expect 24 hour stores should I need an emergency Dr. Pepper in the middle of the night. I have a strong affinity for Houston baseball and basketball, and will cheer my heart out (a skill I learned in Wyoming). Clutch City forever.
I enjoy living at a slow pace and staring at the waves like an Islander. I love opening the windows and getting that salty air in my lungs.
But there's nothing like the oxygen deprived, clean air in the blue skies of high desert Wyoming. There is no feeling on earth like looking up into the blackest sky you've ever seen lit by more stars than you can even imagine. I still love the sound of a train horn because it reminds me of home. I miss the sound of snow crunching under my boots (but not scraping it off of my car). The watercolor sunsets in the west washing over evening sky, the moving sand dunes in the north, the freezing waters of the Gorge to the south. I miss how beautiful and green everything seems to turn overnight after a good summer rain (and then how it almost immediately turns brown again). I enjoy a good northerly wind because I know how to fix my hair to accommodate it (I still haven't mastered working with humidity and my hair). Hell, Butch Cassidy got his nickname, "Butch", when he was a butcher in Rock Springs. I mean, it doesn't get cooler than that, right?
I will be the first to admit, I didn't appreciate what I had when I had it. Sounds like a lot of people, right? I hated being in a small town, despised the wind, wanted the opportunities of the big city, felt like I'd overstayed my time there. Maybe that was true. A wise friend once reminded me that there is a reason and a season for everything. I remember the season of Wyoming fondly.
The song, "Thank God for Hometowns" by Carrie Underwood sums it up: "Thank God for hometowns, and all the love that makes 'em go 'round. Thank God for the county lines that welcome you back in, when you were dyin' to get out."
I thank God everyday that I was raised in such a great place. The older I get, I realize, Wyoming is, and will always be, my first love. I just didn't know it at the time. Wyomingite for life.
