Houston we have a problem
though I leave with a heavy heart,
these last few weeks have taught me
how quietly a city can grow inside you.
I will miss the Mahatma District—
its restless streets breathing after sunset,
falooda drinks cold in my hands,
the sweet weight of red bean pastries in Chinatown.
I will miss riding down Bissonnet
with dembow spilling into the night air,
windows down, sunroof open,
the city rushing past like a long song.
Somehow,
I made a home here.
in a place that once made me feel
like a stranger standing in the wrong doorway.
Now i know the skyline by heart—
its towers stretching toward the sky,
their glass catching the last light of evening,
always just out of reach.
I could name the corners I loved,
the streets that held my footsteps,
the small places where life paused for a moment—
but that is not all you are.
Here I learned how a heart can open.
Here I learned how it can break.
I have loved.
I have lost.
and slowly, without noticing,
I became someone new.
You hold more than 145 languages,
voices crossing one another like rivers—
a thousand distant homes
gathered in one place.
Nineteen year-old me
from a rural, country town
could never have imagined
such a beautiful thing.
Not long ago
I felt your strength and your wrath.
you made me feel small
like a grain of sand beneath your storms,
like someone the city might forget.
You can be relentless—
too fast, too wide, too loud.
and yet now, leaving,
I find myself wishing only
for a little more time to wander your streets.
A few more nights
with the windows down
and the music moving
through the dark.
Houston, we have a problem—
because somewhere along the way
you became part of me.
and I already miss you.
Mar 12
Mar 12, 2026 at 8:54 PM UTC
Houston we have a problem
though I leave with a heavy heart,
these last few weeks have taught me
how quietly a city can grow inside you.
I will miss the Mahatma District—
its restless streets breathing after sunset,
falooda drinks cold in my hands,
the sweet weight of red bean pastries in Chinatown.
I will miss riding down Bissonnet
with dembow spilling into the night air,
windows down, sunroof open,
the city rushing past like a long song.
Somehow,
I made a home here.
in a place that once made me feel
like a stranger standing in the wrong doorway.
Now i know the skyline by heart—
its towers stretching toward the sky,
their glass catching the last light of evening,
always just out of reach.
I could name the corners I loved,
the streets that held my footsteps,
the small places where life paused for a moment—
but that is not all you are.
Here I learned how a heart can open.
Here I learned how it can break.
I have loved.
I have lost.
and slowly, without noticing,
I became someone new.
You hold more than 145 languages,
voices crossing one another like rivers—
a thousand distant homes
gathered in one place.
Nineteen year-old me
from a rural, country town
could never have imagined
such a beautiful thing.
Not long ago
I felt your strength and your wrath.
you made me feel small
like a grain of sand beneath your storms,
like someone the city might forget.
You can be relentless—
too fast, too wide, too loud.
and yet now, leaving,
I find myself wishing only
for a little more time to wander your streets.
A few more nights
with the windows down
and the music moving
through the dark.
Houston, we have a problem—
because somewhere along the way
you became part of me.
and I already miss you.
Moving back makes me appreciate both sides more. I will always have that small town girl in me, but I will always love the city, its people, and what it has taught me. Today I feel lost, as I did yesterday and probably tomorrow. I hope this reaches someone who can relate and understand the dichotomy of living in such different places. Experiencing things for the first time without family or support was the hardest and yet most rewarding things I could've done. I don't regret it.
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