Odd Ducks, Kindness, and Home

I first started spending time in Austin during my last few years of college. I had been here a handful of times to compete in the Texas Relays, and always wanted to spend more time here, so one Christmas my sister Kris and I decided to visit for a few days. We ended up staying a week, in order to hear a re-broadcast of a radio show, which happened to have several of our favorite musicians playing live. The thing that struck me during that week was how unbelievably kind people were to us. When I say "unbelievably kind" I truly mean just that. I didn't really understand their kindness at first. "What do they want? Why are they talking to me? Why would they just give us that extra taco?" I was an odd duck, back then. Probably still am. But back then I never quite felt like I belonged anywhere. I was on the track team. I majored in art. I was obsessed with the X Files and music (especially live music) was in a phase where I loved reading old medical journals,  and spent all of my free time at Streetside Records, listening to music at their listening stations. None of those worlds quite matched up, and if you asked people from each part of my life to describe me I doubt their stories would match up, either. But as soon as I set foot in Austin, I felt at home. It was the weirdest feeling, and I probably didn't even recognize it as that at the time. But the kindness thing really did throw me at first. The next summer I had the opportunity to live in Austin. I remember really observing people that summer, and noticed how fully people connected to each other, how they reached out and really seemed to care about each other. I wanted to have that. But I didn't really know where to begin. I had always felt some kind of weird separation from people. Like I had to actually reach through something in order to reach others, and something always held me back. Then, one night I was sitting in the Cactus Cafe, listening to Patty Griffin. Right in the middle of her song "Forgiveness" I looked around at everyone in the room. Everyone looked so familiar to me, like I had known them my entire life. That's when it hit me, that the separation that I had always felt was my own doing. Somewhere along the way, I had started to hold people at arm's length. I decided two things right then. 1) That I had to move to Austin and 2) That I was going to start reaching out to people, so that I could finally close that gap.
The first thing was relatively easy, and I ended up in Austin the next summer, after graduating from Kansas State. The second was extremely difficult because I really didn't know where to begin. But slowly, as I settled in and met amazing people who led by example, I began to open up to people. It wasn't overnight. In fact, it took many years and a difficult time spent in College Station, TX, then Los Angeles, before I ended up back in Austin and all the stars aligned to let me finally start figuring out how to be the person that I wanted to be.
Austin has nearly doubled in size since I first moved here. The skyline is completely different.People complain that it has changed too much. But sometimes, I still have those moments like I did at the Cactus Cafe all those years ago. Time slows down, things play out like a movie, and it hits me so hard that I am overcome with gratitude and compassion and love for everyone that I encounter, that it kind of knocks me on my ass.
Today I struggled with a headache all day, a throbbing headache that made it hard for me to concentrate on anything else. I even canceled some walks, which I never like to do. But I went home and fell asleep on the couch. I awoke a few hours later, with my dog Danko staring at me from just a few inches away. That kind of intense stare from him only means one thing: it is past dinner time. That is when I remembered that I was supposed to buy dog food .It was too late to go to the pet store, so I went to the grocery store. I was more than a little grumpy. The headache hadn't really gone away. But then the most amazing thing happened. Austin showed itself to me once more. I was in line behind pretty much the entire population of South Austin, and a series of events unfolded where the only thing that mattered to anyone involved was taking care of each other. It probably all happened within a two or three minute time span, but to me it was nearly cinematic. I stood there in line with my dog food, all choked up because of the kindness surrounding me. I may have been extra vulnerable and emotional due to the headache, but I am telling you it was beautiful. I turned around to the couple in line behind me, and they both kind of nodded at me, as if to say, "Yeah, we get it".
A few days ago, I read the quote "Surround yourself with people who make you better." I am so lucky that I live in a place where I don't have to look very far.