Prison Diary: Home

After many weeks being away on travels and family vacation I was back with the Men in White on Monday.

It was very good to be back.

I relished in the drive out to the prison. To most people, West Texas isn't very pretty. The landscape is too flat and scrubby, mainly just mesquite trees, brush, rocks and cacti. This time of year, if we haven't had a lot of rain, the landscape has a dry, burnt look.

But there really is something about wide open spaces.

It's taken me years to emotionally resonate with the landscape, having grown up in lush Pennsylvania. But on the drive out to the prison, which is a few miles northeast of town, I get clear of the city and out into the open countryside. I can't describe the feeling, but when the space opens up--the cobalt blue sky, extending from horizon to horizon, over the rocky scrub below--something opens up inside my heart. The only way I can describe the feeling is that it feels like a happy ache.

Maybe it's just the feeling of being back home, but I find West Texas beautiful. Achingly beautiful in ways I cannot explain.

And maybe that's the best definition of home there is, an affection that can't be explained, justified or accounted for, only felt by the few who have come to love a particular place.

This entry was posted by Richard Beck. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply