I want to move to Hockley.

At least, that's how I feel each time I pass by the house I grew up in. The land that surrounds it.
The woods where we played, built forts, ran from cows, buried treasures, camped out...
The fields where we rode our bikes to the "white thing", picked buckets of blackberries, hunted for treasures in the dump, rode four wheelers, ran from cows, rode Vanna Valetina- that mean ol horse, saw a hot air balloon land, saw so many beautiful sunsets....
The front yard, where we played with so many stray dogs and cats, climbed the big pecan tree, slid in big mud puddles with dad, preformed fashion shows for mom, jump roped and did gymnastics, played basketball, catch, and "hotbox" between the trees ( is that what it was called?). Where we rode the riding lawn mower, me singing my heart out or giving impassioned speaches, all the while missing rows and rows of grass.  Where I played "Annie" with friends for hours always making someone else be Miss Hanagin, and where we watched the stars, laying on the driveway on our backs. We could see the stars! That's something, you know?
I'm thankful for all of the opportunities our little ones have living where we do. The museums, the parks, the amazing mountains, the four seasons...But I do love the opportunities I had as well, and I want to provide those. Freedom, growing up a bit slower, walking out at night and seeing the stars. These are the reasons that when we drive past my heart shouts, "Live here! Grow a big garden, have a long clothesline, get Amelia a flock of chickens, homeschool out in the country where you can build a tree house and read to them up in a tree, cats and babies round your feet...". Then Joel quietly reminds me of some realities I like to ignore in those moments. The heat, the possible loneliness, the lack of homeless population which is his work, etc.etc. So, we've settled on that if we move back to Texas one day, we'd probably settle in the Austin area, but maybe we could have a weekend house on my great grandparents land in Hockley. That little piece of land that is so much a part of me, and always will be. Stinging nettles, hot summer sun and all. :)