Except I'm not in the heart of Texas - well, not really. I'm slightly north of the actual heart of the Lone Star State (technically speaking). The little voice in my head sings this ditty anyway, despite the fact tonight's stars are outshined by the more-than-crescent-not-quite-half moon. It's a beautiful, crisp night, only the second or third of its kind since what - May? After almost 70 days of 100-degree+ days, I'm back to walking Pepper, my 50 lb. mix-of-something pup, by the light of the moon. The problem is, she's having to re-learn how to walk on a leash. It's been a good two months or more since our nightly walks were put on hold. She never had quite mastered the art of walking on a harness when the heat wave of 2011 struck, and now we're back to Square 1. But that's a story for another time. Tonight, my mind is on bright stars and the Texas sky.
While Pepper and I walk, my eyes are drawn to the ground. I'm slump-shouldered, hoping this walk will produce enough endorphins to help me shake off the pity-party that has been inexplicably dogging me all day. Sure, I have a lot on my plate and in my heart - house, bills, car issues, college searches - but who doesn't? My current troubles flip through my brain like a stack of flashcards, but suddenly, another image takes their place.

I looked up at the moon and stars again. Then I thought of those who didn't have the luxury of walking their dogs or looking at the moon or stars tonight. Instead, smoke was filling the air, their lungs and hearts as fire claimed their homes. On the walk home, I kicked the pity party out of my head, and replaced it with prayers for comfort and strength and safety to those Texans hundreds of miles from my safe north Texas home. And until we know what more we can do to help, I ask you to send your prayers their way, too!