Growing roots in Texas soil

Never marry a Yankee. They live in places your roots do not want to sink into and call home.

The poor little rootlets curl up and try hard to distance themselves from the cold ground and aloof neighbors. Makes for long winters and fleeting summers barely kissed by the sun before autumn rains down on you with soggy leaves and frigid days.

My mother and sister would cascade me with photos of Austin and tales of sunburned knees in January. They closed out their joyous missives with the question, “When are you going to come back to the land of the living?”

I did not snarl reading those letters; the grimace on my face was from the cold — truly it was.

My first opportunity to work on Galveston was as a consultant. I would fly in on Sunday, and early Monday morning a Texas rose named Kathleen would drive by my hotel and ferry me to work. Her roots sink deep into the Galveston soil and her kindness, generosity and clarity of spirit shine through her face.

She has that rare ability to radiate warmth and create a chain of smiles as she moves through the day. I think Texas roses thrive because they do not tolerate the “stuff” used to fertilize the poor, unrooted Northern versions. I do know this particular Texas rose embodies the modern Southern womanhood better than any Louisiana Steel Magnolia ever dreamed of.

Southern ladies remind me of the unexpected strength of velvet, soft until threatened and then resolute in holding fabric and family together. They are the center of their family lives yet do not use the family as their only justification for life.

My grandmother used to say: “I can live very well without your grandfather but why would I want to? He is the spice in my cake. Well, at least when he is not the vinegar in my pickles.”

She would then wink and talk about how life needs both; too sweet is cloying and too sour makes more buttermilk than anyone can drink.

Being offered the chance to relocate here unlocked some frozen areas inside me and started a spring thaw that swung into a heady summer of content. Moving back here has removed the winter burlap from around my roots and allowed me to sink deeply back into the feelings of belonging that Texas wraps around one. I’m not suggesting I can ever be the glorious Texas rose Kathleen is, but I no longer feel like my surroundings draw flies.

Carol Chapman lives in Hitchcock.