Heartland.

I've been glued to the news since 3 p.m. yesterday afternoon when a coworker hesitantly asked, "Um...do you know anyone in Moore, Oklahoma?"

And since then, everyone keeps asking...why would you live in a place that's been struck by tornadoes multiple times? Why would you put yourself in harm's way and submit yourself to the potential heartache of losing everything? And why, oh why, when it's all said and done...do you come back?

I might be a born Texan, and I might have only lived in Oklahoma for five years...but I learned something about that state when I was there.

Oklahomans don't give up. 

Ever.

If you think about Oklahoma City, the news probably makes you believe a lot of bad things happen there. Building are blown up for no good reason. Tornadoes with the highest winds ever recorded on the Earth's surface occur there, destroying lives and killing those in its path. Then they come back and tear everything to shreds again. Hell, the state literally blew away in the 1930s.

And every time it gets hit Oklahoma might sit for a moment, stunned by what's just transpired...but then it picks itself back up, dusts itself off and gets right to work fixing everything so life can go back to normal.

Why do they do it? How can they do it?

Because Oklahoma - and Oklahoma City in particular - is the very heart of this country.

Look at it on a map. No other city is so dead center in the United States with highways flowing through it in every direction like arteries connecting it to its body. OKC has to be strong because it's our heart - and if our heart fails...

I have two friends in particular in Oklahoma - one who just barely escaped having her whole life decimated yesterday - that I think about when wondering about the tenacity and strength of that state. These two girls taught me more about being resilient (and just when I needed it most) than they'll ever know simply by being them, the product of their home. 

Oklahomans, whether born or bred, are built a little bit different from the rest of us. Their skin is a little bit thicker, their hearts a little bigger and their ability to stare down disaster and dare it to strike them twice unparalleled. They don't scare or back down that easy. They don't give up without a fight.

You wouldn't want your heart to give up that easy, would you?

Home, let me come home...

I should probably be in a car headed back to Houston right now, hightailing it away from this gloomy, cold
weather we've dealt with all weekend. Instead, I'm tucked away in the back corner of Coffee House on Cherry Street in Tulsa...savoring a few more precious hours in this city I love.

On this trip I wanted to come here for the sake of research - in the book I want to write, my main character works at a cute little coffee shop in Tulsa...and though I never actually stepped foot inside this place during my five years in this town, this was the spot I picked for my inspiration. So I figured if I had some extra time this morning, I'd come plant myself in a chair, make some notes and maybe, hopefully rejuvenate my need to tell this story.

Yup. That was the original plan. But now? Now I'm here because I can't bring myself to be pulled away from this place yet.

There's a certain magic in this city that goes beyond my love for a library or a silly little band that resides here. There's an energy and excitement I haven't found anywhere in Houston. I felt it when I first moved here - every day was an exciting new adventure. I sat in on a writer's group whose membership included S.E. Hinton. I met a girl who knew that silly little band, gave me music no one was supposed to have and introduced me to them. I wrote a lot of beautiful flash fiction to capture the moments of life that mattered in my world. It was all happening.

Remembering that magic brought me to tears Saturday night as I sat on a couch at Dwelling Spaces, flipping through yet another Tulsa publication I picked up over the weekend. There's so many people here just doing their own, artistic thing - and it has room to grow here. No one is shutting it down or ignoring it or saying it's stupid. Everyone has a chance to create.

I miss that. I don't have that. I want that.

I want to be able to pick up everything and head to one of this city's many, many amazing coffee shops (I'm on fantastic latte #3 of my extended weekend) to sit and write and feel connected to a muse - any muse at this point, I don't care. I miss that excitement of creativity.

So how do I get it back? I don't know just yet. And I know I can't sit around and wait for a chance to move back here to feel that creativity...because I simply do NOT feel that in Houston. Which is hard because just about everyone I love lives in Houston. So what wins out? Creative needs or personal needs? If I'm going to do any of what I want to, creative has to win that battle. I know that - but I'm not quite ready for that yet.

So I guess my best option for the moment is to absorb Tulsa's magic as much as possible when I'm here - through the food and music and cute boutiques and vibe of the city.

I need to remember what it felt like: standing on those library steps and feeling infinite - like everything was possible, nothing was silly or too far out of reach; walking into Cain's for the first time and feeling like I'm home; discovering new restaurants unique to Tulsa that I couldn't wait to share with my family on their next visit; sitting at Shades of Brown, reading books and writing in journals.

And then I have keep writing about it all so I don't lose the feeling until I can find a way to get back here.

Well, I've never been to heaven...

Tell us the story of a piece of jewelry you own. Where did it come from, and what does it mean to you?

I'm a Texan, born and bred. Growing up in the only state that was once its own country and is the largest state in the continental US has certain...effects on a person.

Yes, that infamous Texas ego. I might have been raised by two Yanks, but I'm proud to be a Texan and can't imagine being raised in another state. I like my Shiner ice cold, my freeways 12 lanes wide (so I don't die) and  enjoy keeping Austin weird when I visit.

Then I got this crazy idea to move to Oklahoma for school. I walked in with my Texas pride and those Okies humbled me. I kind of fell in love with their state and while I rolled my eyes a lot and thought they made big deals out of nothing, making the decision to come back to the TX was not an easy one.

Luckily, I get to carry a little piece of Oklahoma with my every day. On my last birthday in Tulsa, Katie gave me an Oklahoma charm from James Avery. She had an identical one I'd been eying for...forever. It went on immediately, and I wore it proudly my last two months in the state. She told me when she bought it she was torn: she wanted to get me the Texas one as well but thought Oklahoma was more deserving given the circumstances.

I agreed.

And then I put the Texas charm on my Christmas wish list and made sure to drop plenty of hints. Santa Claus listened, and on Christmas morning I got what I consider to be my matching charm.

I wear the charms on a necklace often - mostly when I'm out at a show because I feel like in some way it identifies me - and when I do, I feel like I'm carrying a little piece of myself on a chain around my neck. Having this tiny sterling silver Oklahoma makes me feel like I didn't lose it completely, but the Texas reminds me who I am first and foremost.

Both remind me of who I've been, who I became and who I am now. I like having that tangible reminder.