Tonight I'm sitting in my hotel room in Laredo, TX, trying to read "All Creatures Great and Small" by James Herriott, but am distracted by the sound of a storm ripping its way through the town. The wind is hard and punishing, the moon and stars are blotted out by dark grey clouds.
This is my second trip to Laredo, and again it strikes me how lonely this place is. Perhaps it is because I have read a few Larry McMurtry novels, but this town has a memory of harder times, when the West was still wild, and there were people struggling to make a living in this god-forsaken border town.
Or maybe it's because I've gone through a bit of upheaval in my life recently. But the town, with it's hot, humid weather, and the promise of rain on the horizon is haunting. It brings to mind sleepless nights, headlights on an empty highway, and the pursuit of almost forgotten dreams.
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