My dad used to talk of Texas
With a forlorn look and a wistful voice.
He’d remark on the expanse of the land,
Quickly damning the multitude
Of Virginia and loblolly pines
Obstructing his view.
Yet, I think, on his trips back to the Lone Star,
The pull of the openness was never strong enough
To leave the confines of those sweet Virginia breezes.
My nostalgic trip back to the historic roots of my youth
Took off this week
When I learned that the parent of a student and I
Went to the same elementary school.
Coincidently, the This Is Your Life momentum
Continued when a different student informed me that
I went to high school with his uncle.
The news back home,
As reported by Google,
Was splattered with names
Of people I remember playing four square
Or hanging out with by the river.
Now they were involved with ordinances and liquor laws.
Like my father, though, there’s no real pull to return,
I’m a stranger in my hometown.
Development has removed most of what I remember.
Besides, my life just off the corridor is great
With a family I love and a desired complacency
That has pushed aside longings for those southern nights.