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Calves to hamstrings, right hand raking through the leaves, left holding a kangaroo pouch of pecans I’d made with my zipped up hoodie. We had let the dogs out for one last run before the light was lost to the horizon, and we felt the fallen pecans under our feet like the tiniest of cobblestones. We felt the pull of all the packing we had to do for this run of shows and time with family in Austin, but this was stronger. This was home.
Swishing of ropey cow tails just across the fence, woodpeckers hammering for dinner, dogs traipsing through and rolling in crunchy leaves, a husband letting me know he found a good spot of pecans in his best cajun accent. It’s not desert quiet, but it’s living-down-a-gravel-road-in-Louisiana quiet. And in the spaces where I find a way to block out the need to constantly feel busy, a smile takes over my face that I couldn’t stop if I tried. It reminds of why I don’t need to constantly be busy--that it is not a measure of my worth.
The pecans were all camouflaged in a blanket of brown leaves covering dying autumn grass. It’s incredible that our eyes and brains were able to pick them out. I guess it comes down to a pattern in the chaos--something repeated that we can recognize. We’re now in the van, Texas-bound, but we were just home for a week and half, which is the longest string of days there yet. It’s allowed me to start seeing patterns in myself too. Some good, and some that need to be broken.
We’ll have more time at home next month to break patterns and get our house in order, but first, our final shows of the year start today in Houston. We’ll also hit LaGrange, San Antonio, Wimberley, and the very last show of the year is in the very first place we met--The Village Cafe in Bryan, Texas, We hope to see some of you Texas folks out there, and we hope every one of you has your face taken over by a smile today.
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