There’s a stretch of highway between Athens and Palestine, Texas, where I’ve often wondered: where exactly does the road shift from “city” to “country”? It’s not something you can point to on a map, but there’s a distinct change in the air. Attitudes become warmer, patience grows, and respect seems more ingrained. It’s subtle, but you can feel it.
I still haven’t figured out the precise spot where that transformation happens, but there’s no mistaking the charm of the East Texas attitude. Whether it’s the slower pace or the genuine hospitality, there’s something about this region that feels like home—calm, welcoming, and wonderfully real.