Page 75 of Possibly Texas

The afternoon sun had strolled across the sky and was slinking away to the horizon as the breeze ruffled my hair and cooled my skin. The hand-size leaves of the tree cooled our spot further, making it feel more like spring than summer. But I was in misery.

After taking Jack his plate of food from the barbecue, I had run back to the downtown area, only to find Auggie waiting by the table full of plates and utensils, ready to feast. One quick trip down each side of the street, and we were seated beyond the tram tracks on Liberty Lane at one of the picnic tables that had been set up in the morning. Along with Sofia, Jasper—forgoing his tram duties to eat—and Levi Lee, we ate until we could barely move.

Brisket, ribs, smoked sausage, even a hamburger apiece, along with macaroni salad, potato salad, corn on the cob, coleslaw, baked beans, and biscuits, were stuffed down our gullets. Since it was all too much, we even partook in a slice of cake and ice cream that was available. Two sodas apiece washed it all down. Over an afternoon, we ate enough calories to get a growing teenager through a week.

“I’m dying,” I groaned comically.

Auggie laughed at me and patted his extended stomach.

Even though most of the town’s residents were still on Liberty Lane, mingling and telling stories, watching the kids play with sparklers, Auggie and I had chosen to rest under the tree. Red, green, and blue sparks flew up and down the street and children giggled, carefree and excited. We were far enough away to feel separate from everyone else, but close enough to hear the talking and laughter drifting on the breeze. My stomach may have been trying to split open, but the obvious joy exuded by the town’s residents made me grin.

Possibly was…alive. I’d never been to a place where the town’s residents all got along. Where food was shared freely, and in such abundance, and no one fought or argued. I’d never been to a town where the kids ran up and down the streets with fireworks and giggled in such a carefree manner. No adults were yelling for the kids to “be careful.” Everyone had autonomy and the trust of others. Even the kids.

Jaded as I was by my time out in the world—well, the U.S., at least—I wanted to feel skeptical about everything. But Possibly was quite possibly the best place to be.

Sleepy and seemingly mundane, it had an energy that made me feel as if I was me…but also part of something bigger. A community, maybe? I could be me, but I could also belong. Everyone in Possibly had their own thing—their art, their business, their friends—but they also had each other. Acceptance and passivity seemed to be two more mottos of my new hometown.

It wasn’t just a motto. It was a practice.

Possibilians bothered no one and expected the same in return. And, for that luxury, they rewarded each other ten-fold. Levi Lee could wear his green-screen suit that didn’t hide everything well enough, but he was welcome to eat five helpings of ribs at the Fourth of July BBQ. Wyatt could walk around town, firing bullets into the air, but his help was warmly accepted at the grills. Harm none and be unharmed in return. Be yourself but part of the community.

Maybe it was too simple, too reductive, but it was a good motto. It was a great practice.

Along with the sounds of the people celebrating on Liberty Lane, a new sound was delivered by the cool breeze.

Luckenbach, Texas by Waylon Jennings was playing on AMOR.

“What?” I sat up abruptly, propping myself up with my hands in the grass.

“Huh?” Auggie’s face screwed up.

“Amos changed the song!”

Auggie shrugged. The sun was setting in the west behind him, casting his face in darkness, unreadable, since the remaining sliver of sun blinded me.

“I told you he does that sometimes,” Auggie said. “Well, on special occasions. Tomorrow he’ll be back on his routine. He’ll probably get crazy again on Labor Day, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas—”

“Why does he do that?” I interjected. “It’s…weird, right?”

Auggie smiled. He’d gotten used to forgiving my use of the word.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I think maybe it’s just easy? Or maybe he wakes up and feels a song is the ‘mood of the day’ and runs with it? It’s just the way he’s always been. And it’s not like anyone pays him to run the radio station, so who would any of us be to complain? We don’t have to listen.”

“Really?” I laughed. “There are speakers everywhere. You can’t escape it if you’re downtown.”

“They could be unplugged. Smashed,” Auggie said. “Someone could ask Amos to quit.”

“Well, sure.”

“But it’s kind of nice,” Auggie said. “He sets the mood for the town for the day. He wants us all to have theme music for the day.”

I thought about that.

“Yeah,” I said, finally. “It is.”

Auggie nodded along to the music, rubbing his stomach with a free hand.

Listening to Luckenbach, Texas, in Possibly, Texas, was perfection I didn’t know my life had been without until that moment. I’d never really paid much attention to the song, nor did I ever consider it a “patriotic” song. Even as I listened to it as I sat outside of Starbuck’s with Auggie, I still didn’t see it that way. However, it captured the day and the town perfectly. It was the perfect mood music. Amos had certainly perfected his own art.