Big City Big Girls

The lights immediately became brighter as the music grew louder. There our seats felt like clouds of heaven, overlooking pure beauty.  My hands were held, one by Robbie and one by my mom. I turned my head to Robbie and he returned the glance, smiling and eyes twinkling. My gaze turned to my mom whose eyes were closed as she danced in her seat, singing along. “So this is happiness,” I couldn’t help but think to myself.


The bright lights and big city opened her arms once more to me. Fitting in fringe and fur, my wide eyes tried to soak in every skyscraper and glamorous taxi cab I could find.

There is nothing like the city!

The weekend trek back to Texas was to visit my family and bask in the glorious sunshine. Though the trips are never long enough, adventure is always found around every corner. I love showing off my hometown. Somehow Texas has a bad reputation (living away, I understand why. It’s wrong. But I understand it.) but I adore showcasing the city that first captured my heart.

Naturally this means downtown Houston. I’m a bona fide city girl and something about the hustle and bustle ruffles my feathers in the most delightful way. So where does a city girl love to go?

Downtown Houston with my family for a show. A broadway show

There in the heart of the dirty south, we found ourselves transported in time during Jersey Boys at the Hobby Center downtown. It was the 1960s and life was rosy. Frankie Valli took the stage and before we could blink, we were dancing in our seats and singing along.

Throughout the show, each of us thought of my father, the missing piece of our musical repertoire. His girls (mom, Abbey, and myself) were submersed in culture and artistic interludes from the moment we met him. Some could say we heard music when he was around. Though seeing as my dad would serenade even strangers, that isn’t a far-fetched statement.

It has almost been three months since my father passed away and some days I still struggle to believe it.

However, sitting in the plush chairs with my vintage fur wrapped closely around my shoulders while Frankie Valli serenaded the audience with “Sherry,” I couldn’t help but feel my dad smile. He would have loved the show!

Intermission brought us wine and hours later, the surprisingly cool air buzzed on our lips as we entered the Houston air post show.

It wasn’t long before I was zipping through the streets of downtown, finding our way back home. The moon was shining, illuminating our journey back. Smiles were plastered on our faces as we sang our own renditions of the classics. Our own Jersey accents were tried and we each giggled in reply.

Not a tear escaped down our faces in lieu of the laughter and jubilee. Then again, as Frankie Valli said, “Big Girls Don’t Cry.”


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