So, it’s no secret to anyone who knows me that I don’t like Texas. And nothing is going to change the fact that I would love to be in the midst of mountains and rolling hills versus plains, surrounded by thick forests versus wanna-be trees, and enjoying snowy winters and cooler summers (although I know the Northeast is being brutally beaten by heat right now.) This can lead to some teasing on my grandfather’s part at times - like the other night.

“Melissa, there is one thing that would make you like Texas,” he told me.

Mmh…how did I know where this conversation was going? But I asked what.

“A man.”

“Um, I don’t think so, Grandpa. I would love the man, but I would not love Texas.”

“But you would come to like it for his sake,” Grandpa insisted.

“If he really loved me,” I replied, “we’d move.”

And as there is no man on the horizon – Texan or otherwise as godly men don’t grow on trees or anywhere else as far as I can discern – I’m not about to change my mind about Texas.

These last few weeks, I feel like this place has been laughing at me. Billboards are yet another thing I despise about “the Metroplex”. (Which is what they call the Dallas/Fort Worth area as if they live in some southern New York City.) I have this habit of reading every word that passes within my vision, so billboards are a pain. They make what landscape Texas has look dirty and cluttered, and they advertise things I’d be happy to forget exist. There is one at the exit I take to get to work. It is advertising back surgery and plays on words in order to catch your attention. It mocks me every morning:

“Welcome back...to your life.”

As if I need a reminder that I am driving to work, which is my life – in the midst of the state of Texas. Sigh.