The last time I saw this view, it was framed in the dying flames and smouldering embers of the worst widlfires ever to cross the Texas Panhandle. It was in the cusp season in the waning days of winter that we like to call spring until a cold front blows through to remind us that it's not. It was, in fact, just about a year ago.

Well, to be fair, I've been across this view many times since, but never really SAW it as I did that night almost a year ago and last night.

It's the view of a city, her lights shining like jewels on the Texas plain. The city we've called home for two and a half years. And the city, I had hoped, where I could raise my family.

It's the view of a city we will be leaving in a short time, hopefully never to return.

The irony is not lost on me; almost a year ago I donned bunker gear and risked life and limb to help save their homes. As my reward, they are taking mine. I could feel bitter, I want to feel bitter, but I don't. What I feel is sorrow.

I wanted to fit in here. I wanted to call this place home, call these people my family. But old prejudices die hard, and I guess it will be a long time before someone with long hair is accepted here. Especially someone who doesn't share their prejudices.

I thought, arrogantly, that we were called here for a reason. Everything was too perfect, straight out of the storybooks. But if anyone's called to anything, it's definitely not me, and definitely not here.

The next few weeks will be filled with packing away memories we've built here. With burying the dream of finally owning our own home, a dream that gets thwarted everytime we attempt it. All because we were stupid enough to be different in a town where different is VERY bad.

And before we leave this place forever, I am sure I will look back again and see the lights and wonder what could have been.