Goodbye Stockton, my old friend

I never thought when we packed up several cars and a U-Haul to move out to this small Texas desert town of Fort Stockton three years ago that it would ever feel like home. That is, until it did.

I’ve always been a firm believer that everything happens for a reason and God works in the most mysterious ways.

When my husband called to tell me that he was getting stationed in Pecos County for his job, my heart sank. I started to hysterically cry because it meant that we were moving roughly 320 miles or 5 hours and 30 minutes away from our families. We are both such family-oriented people that this was going to be the hardest part about moving away. It felt like — even though, deep down, I knew it wasn’t true — I wasn’t ever going to see them again.

I remember making that first trek to Fort Stockton, before the move, to look for houses and generally check out the area. We were driving along the main road in this little, barren town and there was almost this culture shock that came over me.

Everything is different compared to where I grew up. There are so many abandoned buildings that look like they have been sitting there for 10-plus years; there are no designated neighborhoods or subdivisions with cute names and there are only two grocery store options, Walmart and Lowe’s Market (not the hardware store). And if you think the summers are hot in Texas, it’s even worse out in the desert.

When we found out that we were going to be living out here, it felt like we were moving to a faraway land with no end in sight. But not the type with mythical creatures or happily-ever-after that we read about in fairytales or novels, rather one that feels like there is nothing good to come of it.

We have received some good news that soon, we will be moving closer to family.

In these last three years, I have been pleasantly surprised with Fort Stockton since my original negative thoughts.

We found a community. One thing that I don’t think people talk about often enough is how difficult it is to find friends when you become an adult, especially after getting married. We were fortunate enough to find a church in this small town where right when you walk into those doors, the people know who are newcomers, you feel welcome and they treat you like family. These are people who text me late at night in the middle of a hail storm to make sure I am okay; they comfort me during the times when life just gets hard and they were there with arms wide open, full of support when I told them that we were moving.

I’ve become more independent. I remember the first time that my husband had to leave for several days to a week on a work call — I hysterically cried again on my couch. Since then, it’s been a little easier each time. More often than not, I have made that 320-mile drive back to Central Texas, with my beagle, Finn, by my side, to go visit my parents for a week. And other times, I have just stayed at home.

I’ve learned to appreciate the small things. Like Ferris Bueller said, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” I’ve started to become even more grateful and appreciative of the time I’ve been able to spend with family and friends since living out here during the road trips, vacations and holidays together.

I found a home.

Thank you, Fort Stockton. Until next time.

Navarro is the editor for the Hays Free Press/News-Dispatch. She can be reached at [email protected].