Dancing in the middle of nowhere

​Small town west Texas.
That's what's on my mind.
Last night, I spent the evening on a dirt and rock clearing literally in the middle of nowhere.
Thirty miles south of Post, in a little spot in the road, toes were tapping to the timeless sounds of The Bellamy Brothers, only to be outdone by the shuffling of boots in sync with the drumbeat. Cowboy hats, concho belts with flecks of turquoise and gaudy belt buckles proudly announcing past trophies in some distant arena, the simple existence of the best people in the world was displayed.
I watched as the sky turned shades of pink and purple, camouflage for me since that matches my hair, and the sun went to bed behind the hills and radio towers in the west. A chill blanketed the air and a storm lurking just miles away provided a backdrop of lightening as the smell of rain mixed with pit barbecue.
It was truly surreal.
A step back in time.
Simpler times to be sure.
Children ran and played with no ties to social media or phones, but a simple desire to run, dance and explore with no security concerns.
Yep. Small town west Texas got in my soul last night. I felt a bit overwhelmed at its perfection.

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