Past the Edges of Town
My parents raised my sister and me in a small town about 40 miles outside of Houston. But to say that I grew up in a small town isn’t exactly accurate. My childhood home was in the country, on 10 acres of trees and pastures without another house in sight. I loved that land. I loved the Brazos River, the constant noise of it whenever we opened one of the doors to our house. I loved the sound of the gravel road under my sneakers, the fences and trees eaten up by mustang grapevines. Though 15 minutes away from our home, Sealy was where I went to school from kindergarten through high school. It was where my family picked up our mail, where we went to the library, and where many of my friends lived. Sealy was my hometown.
My sister and I both headed to Austin after high school, excited to live in a city. Not long after, my parents moved to New Mexico. But when my dad hit 75, it seemed better for my parents to live closer to family. The traffic and increasing population of Austin made a second home in the country enticing to me, my sister, and my brother-in-law. In 2014, we pooled resources and bought a place 8 miles northwest of Lampasas, nestled between rocky Central Texas hills on the Edwards Plateau. The property—once a working dairy farm—came with a house, a garage apartment, a barn, various outbuildings, and almost 200 acres.
Before COVID-19, I spent two or three weekends a month there. After the pandemic hit, it was more like a 50-50 split—for safety, for
