We’re posted up at a lakeside compound on the outskirts of Austin, surrounded by Cocaine Cowboy mansions, billowing Lonestar flags, and herds of marauding deer interspersed amongst invasive species.

Texas is a vast, diverse, and profoundly confusing place, but writing this as I am on a gently undulating pontoon dock, utilizing in small talk what I’ve been led to believe is fishing lingo, I’m pretty content with my lil’ slice of it.

I’m reminded that I’m light years away from where I started with my Al Stone family, that I’m owed nothing, and I might be open to the challenge of subduing my restless mind long enough to enjoy it.