10 minute read
Editor’s Choices
Editor’s Choice - Short Story
Not Your Typical Texan
by Nadia Truong
Cradling my art portfolio carefully in my arms, I stepped around puddles as I made my way to the car. The Houston sky had been a dismal gray all day, not quite the bright colors of the current spring season one would expect. Upon entering my ride, I set my project carefully on the back seat, noting a shoebox also sitting on the seat. “What’s in the box?” I asked my mom as she pulled out of the school parking lot.
“Box?” she repeated. “Oh! I forgot about returning those shoes! You mind if we make a stop at the shoe store on the way home, Miri?” inspiration for my project while we were there, although shoes didn’t seem like the best subject for a drawing.
We entered the store a short time later, shaking water off straight to the return-counter as I browsed the many types of boots that lined the wall. “Thinkin’ of buyin’ a pair of cowboy boots for the upcomin’ rodeo, miss?” one of the sales assistants asked in a thick country accent.
“Me?” I blinked. “Oh, no thanks. I don’t think I have many occasions to wear boots like these,” I remarked, trying to imagine myself walking around school in the rustic-looking boots.
The man chuckled, taking a pair off the wall and admiring them. “Nonsense! E’ry Texan should own a good pair of boots.” I smiled politely and just nodded in reply. I wanted to mention that I wasn’t exactly a Texan, and never had felt like a country girl in my life. My family was all from Asia, and the Texas city I grew up in was one of the most diverse cities in the United culture one would expect from a Texas resident. As I peeked past glow lightly on each petal.
“Where is this?” I asked, pointing to the scene.
The man reached into this vest pocket, taking out a slightly crumpled brochure with a similar picture on the front. He showed me the paper. “Right ‘ere, in Ennis, Texas. Has one of the nicest bluebonnet trails in Texas. A tad bit far from here, but then again a lot of places in Texas that are further from here than even some of the neighborin’ states.”
“Ready! And yeah, it is,” I agreed, making a mental note to do some research on Ennis when I got home. I couldn’t stop thinking about the bluebonnets as we stepped out into the rainsoaked streets once more. We were almost to the car door when my shoes made a squelching noise, and my socks were instantly soaked through with puddle water. My thoughts were jarred out sudden dampness. I entered the car, sighing as my waterlogged
“Maybe, ‘every Texan should own a good pair of rain breath.
Later that night, with a brain just as dry of ideas as my socks were dry of water, I read through the rules of the art contest for the twentieth time. “Why does this city break all the stereotypes for a traditional Texas theme?” I groaned. Looking out my window at the rainy streets and glass buildings, the view couldn’t be any more different than the dry deserts and expansive ranches that many would think of when imagining Texas. As I lay my blank canvas out on the desk in front of me, a half sheet it up, realizing it was the inspiration sheet my art teacher had given to all the participants during class. Longhorn. Alamo. Mockingbird. Cowboy. Boots. I stopped and stared at the typed word.
“Boots. What was it about boots...the bluebonnets! Of course, how could I have forgotten?” Ennis. The city’s name surfaced in my memory, and I whipped out my laptop to search to my face, but none of the scenes were quite the inspiration I for a centerpiece, the subject of my project. Squinting my eyes and furrowing my brow, I tried to imagine what I could place in the scene that would capture the judges eyes immediately. A soft knock sounded on my door. “Come in,” I called, not turning away from my computer screen. and I felt her hand on my shoulder. “Dinner’s ready if you are! Ah, isn’t that the place in the picture we saw at the shoe store earlier?” I leaned aside so she could get a closer look.
My mom suddenly spun around my chair, and her dark brown eyes sparkled as they met mine. “Hey, you have an extended weekend next week, right? Why don’t we take a little
“What are you wearing?” I asked incredulously, staring at blouse with a denim shirt-dress and a red checkered bandana stitched on the sides in dark thread. I had also dressed slightly
jacket.
She laughed, spreading her arms out wide. “Embracing my inner Texan! Might as well go all out, although we’re taking the car instead of a covered wagon and horse. I’ve got a pair of boots for you, too, if you want!”
“Aw come on, lighten up a little! I may lack many aspects of an authentic Texan, but we live here, so time to pay some tribute to our great state! However, I will admit that these boots have lotuses stitched on them, rather than the Texas roses or ended up being Asian cowboy boots.” She laughed, tilting her lotuses, on her shoes.
“No escaping that here in Houston, I guess.” Chuckling, I snapped a picture of my mom with my camera, letting her strike a few poses before we were in the car and driving off to
We were about half an hour away from our destination when a drop of rain splattered on the windshield in front of me. “No,” I whispered, begging the sky to hold its tears for once. “Please don’t rain...”
In response, the sky decided to release the waterworks, and the road was soon slick with rainwater. My mom squinted and covered my face. It was foolish of me to think we could escape the volatile weather of Houston, even three hours away. Perhaps all of Texas was more similar than I thought, despite its large size. A wave of disappointment washed over me as I took in the rain head on the dashboard, closing my eyes in defeat. However, a couple minutes later, the car pulled into a parking space, and I heard the release of a seat belt as my mom prepared to get down from the car.
“Are you not feeling well, Miri?” she asked, concerned. “We’ve arrived, so I thought you might like to get some fresh air and see some bluebonnets!” at the dismal scene outside. “Can’t you see? It’s all gloomy, not fresh, and clearly there aren’t many bluebonnets to see in this weather! Everything is ruined now!”
The car was quiet for a moment after my outburst, and all we could hear was the noise of the rain bouncing off the outside of the car. It was as if there was a moment of silence to pay respects to my project that was sure to fail now without this key piece I was searching for. I had been so sure that this trip would to go home, and paint the most beautiful art piece I would ever paint. Silently, my mom reached for the umbrella in the back seat and exited the car, stepping carefully onto the muddy road in her new cowboy boots. I sat uncomfortably in the silence of the car, eyes closed, feeling as if the rain was taunting me with every splatter on the windshield.
A few minutes later, I heard a tap on my window. I opened my eyes to see my mom standing at the window, beckoning for me to come out, too. Trying to plaster a smile on my face to hide the lingering feelings of frustration, I grabbed an umbrella and opened the door to join her. After all, she had driven all this way for me, so I didn’t want to waste our time together by moping in the car alone. She grabbed my hand and pulled me over to a clearing on the side of the road. It was surrounded by the heavy rain droplets. On the path right by my feet, a single stem was bent and broken but the petals remained intact, giving it, but my mom bent down immediately and scooped the lone
“How sad,” she said, brushing water and dirt off the petals the others.” salvage the situation, trying to imagine what I could paint with was the gray clouds over a mass of muted blue. Discouraged, I turned around, ready to go back to the car. My shoes landed in yet another puddle of water, and I felt tears of frustration rise to my eyes as my socks soaked through with water.
I sniffed, smiling slightly in agreement. “I guess I could join you in your Asian Texan-ness, then,” I admitted, moving towards the car to get the boots. Dry shoes would be better than wet ones for sure, and perhaps wearing the boots wouldn’t arriving at the car door, I realized it was locked, so I looked back to ask my mom for the keys. I was surprised, however, when I took in the scene in front of me.
My mom had tucked the broken bluebonnet behind her where I had been standing a few moments before. A happy smile played on her lips and her eyes were closed, soaking in the nature around her. I gaped at her for a moment, wondering how she could enjoy so much what I had seen as a gloomy mess. Then something clicked in my mind and I tiptoed closer, ignoring my wet shoes as I turned on my camera. It would be quite different from my original plan, but I now knew what to paint.
Later that evening, with the photo I had taken uploaded on my computer in front of me, I began to sketch on the blank creating the shape of a human, then an umbrella, and lastly, with my paints, it was done. A woman with pale skin and silky dark brown hair that was pulled back by a red bandana. She wore a denim dress, and on her feet were leather boots with turned upwards to the sky, letting the Texas sky cry its tears onto her smiling face. Shining brighter in the gray and gloomy atmosphere, the woman, not your typical Texan, stood in the rain, a singular bluebonnet with a broken stem tucked carefully behind her ear.
Editor’s Choice - Poem
I Am From Texas
by Miya Willis
I am from cousins living across the street And the rest of the family living 2 hours away in another city Big family gatherings every other weekend The only McDonalds you had was a home cooked burger and cut up chicken strips
I am from dogs running loose up and down the street Next time you see them they have a leash and pet names like Spot and Princess
I am from playing outside in rocks and dirt with bare feet Making sandcastles in the front yard to playing hide and seek until the streetlights came on
I am from a place where cuts and bruises are common But in every situation like that, you get up and keep going
with chicken legs at the end of a stick A long pole with a net at the end to hold your reward
I am from a place where food is most important And you better have tried Whataburger, or you will have 5 different orders thrown at you
I am from 5-hour road trips and still being in the same city I am from a church where your hands and feet were your only beat
16 years in my home state and there’s no other place i’d rather be My best and worst memories are made and are still being made here Y’all can have liberty and y’all can have death Give me Texas the place I love best
