Viola and I get into the car and drive down the rocky road toward the country road that leads to San Angelo. On the drive over, Viola stares out the window and looks at the rolling hills and tall burnt grasses. Considering it’s February, almost all the grass is brown, much different from when we visited in the late spring for Courtney and Drew’s wedding.
I see her from the corner of my eye fidgeting, and eventually, we pull into a large parking lot, and her eyes light up when she sees the large sign hanging over the entrance. We get out of the car, and she’s completely elated.
“We’re going to a rodeo? Like a real rodeo?”
real“Yes ma’am,” I say in my best Texan accent but fail ridiculously.
She bursts out into laughter, and I pull her into my arms as we walk toward the entrance. I take
