Black velvet with that slow southern style

I have always loved coming back to the place where my mother grew up. It gave me a sense of peace and connection.

Specifically I enjoy driving random roads and imagining that my mother once drove down these roads. I think about what life must have been like for her when she was a teenager and where she must have gone. I drive by specific places that have been land marked in stories and pointed out and I can see her face. I can hear her laugh, but then I also see her pain. I feel it.

I try to think how drastically things have changed in the ways that every time I visit Tucson, something has been built up, added or destroyed. Or perhaps the only change is that the shops now house things with a Spanish and Mexican flair.

I just know that when I’m here, I don’t feel so rejected or alone. I feel… home.