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(Consider reading this post with an accent, if you are not from the ‘hot as hell’ state)

For a night, he was from Texas.

During those intense two hours or so, that was a man who believed himself to be the quiet and stoic cowboy of bad fortune, with a guitar in hands and a ‘lone star state of mine’ scribbled on a piece of paper. That was a man who lived by his beliefs and I believed in him, just as hard. While his skin reflected the same tone and his hair swayed with the same leisurely weight it did when he was younger, this was his final goodbye. A true man who could only go down while keeping it real, while being true to what he seemed to be (at least to me): the tough romantic who would never back down from the fight of his life, because you know… He was a Texan.

I stepped into this episode of my life knowingly and embraced it bravely. This was the last time I would ever see him and feel it was new, fresh and unique. This was the last time he would ever ‘be’ around and now I see how it marked me ever so deeply.

I know. A movie. That’s all there is to it. A story that could be just another sappy love song, another script that didn’t make the first reading pile or even somebody’s dream, which couldn’t possibly play any role other than what its final destination truly is: the dream itself. However, in this movie, the man who made the music I loved, talked in a particularly inconspicuous drawl I craved and walked as if the world was a very, very cold place, feeling too grand to fit in his shoes and too small to fill up his coat was in love with a girl.

He truly was in love with that girl.

That girl was from New York and she had a dream that wasn’t tangible enough to be explained in simple words so she decided to put it into a song.

The man from Texas, who wasn’t really from Texas but acted as if he were, couldn’t be more in love with the girl from New York so he decided he was too a man of few words who couldn’t grasp the world in any other way: he too wrote a song.

As a matter of fact, he wrote plenty of them and they all sounded like it was hot as hell outside although it was just raining, but each one of these songs made me feel like that goodbye wasn’t just a goodbye but the kind of event that decidedly defined who I would become, one way or another.

I know what you may be thinking at this point. That I was young, maybe 10 or 12 and that the definition of love that a little girl embraces should not be considered the ultimate truth in the life of an adult but you see, I disagree.

I believe that desires and impressions set precedents and that due to the inevitability of our nature, we keep returning to the events and memories we cherish the most (or don’t). These memories could be easily thought of as true ‘defining moments’.

For an hour or two, that man was saying his goodbyes to me, a little girl who decided that those blue eyes and careless hair of his would too define my existence… and I’m sorry but the lone star state he chose to be from couldn’t have been more permanently fitting.

No wonder I was the only one among forty souls who was picked to go to Texas when I was just fourteen ~ Life tells funny stories sometimes so I stop and listen, patiently.