Houston

Last week, I traveled to Houston for work for a couple days. Without going into detail, my visits to Houston are bittersweet. A couple years ago, I'd planned to move there, imagined myself there, and mentally prepared myself to leave New Orleans for what seemed like an incredible twist of happiness in my life. Needless to say, things didn't go as planned.

Visiting Houston this time was no different. That familiar feeling swelled in me again, the comfortable warmth of a place that seems somewhat like home (Arizona is similar to Texas, in ways) combined with the stinging reminder of a future that never was.

Last Wednesday, for the first time in my life, I sat down to dinner alone. Over some excellent chips and salsa and so-so fajitas, I pondered what my life would be like if I lived in Houston today. Of course, I could spend a lot of time thinking about the what-ifs and the way things could have been, but I try not to let my thoughts roam in that direction.

And that night, they didn't. Instead, I found myself thinking about why things never seem to work out the way we think they will. And isn't that true? I don't think any aspect of my adult life fits into the neatly-built puzzle I'd imagined when I was younger. Things that seemed certain have been taken away from me, good friendships fizzled, and life has generally proven rockier than I knew to expect at sixteen. Instead, though, I've been blessed with the presence of wonderful people and the satisfaction of happiness as a result of turbulence. I've been extremely fortunate.

I should know well by now that life can't be planned, that expectations often lead to disappointment, and that I have to accept that things will happen as they're meant to. Those are difficult lessons, and all I can do to master them is to continue to see the good in life. I'm working on that.