As I head up I45 North to Wichita, KS, where I will take a left to Denver on my way to Idaho, my Spotify country themed playlist begins with George Strait’s “Take Me to Texas”. My heart will forever be in Texas no matter where I find myself. But in that wild west spirit embedded in me from all my years in this great state, I head west to see what else is out there.

When Lisa and I moved downtown about nine years ago, I started a blog called “HtownNative.” The purpose of the blog was to chronicle our life transition from living in the suburbs to living in downtown Houston, living the urban lifestyle.

 One of my first post was about the reasons we moved downtown. The reasons included the want to downsize, to simplify our lives, to live in a walkable community where you did not have to drive a car for a cup of coffee. Aside from those reasons, the main reason we moved downtown was to live somewhere you could build a sense of community; where you knew your neighbors and you could metaphorically borrow a cup of sugar from your next-door neighbor. We did not have that in the house in the suburbs from where me moved from. Thirteen years in the same house and we would struggle to have a dinner party of six.

When we moved downtown, community did not present itself at once. It was a gradual process. There can be many ways in which a sense of community may begin. For us, it began with the neighbors we met on the roof spending time at the pool. In hindsight, I was amazed at the number of times I sat on the roof by the pool in near perfect sunny weather by myself with that view of the downtown skyline. Not another person present. People will travel vast distances for an experience I had countless times with an elevator ride.

So how did it begin? For me, it was one Sunday afternoon months after we had moved in. At the time, I was still receiving delivery of the weekend paper of one of the more known Sunday papers. Not an online version, but the actual paper paper. For some reason when I transferred the subscription from our previous home to Bayou Lofts the paper delivery was inconsistent and more Sundays than not, I did not receive it. I was really missing the reading of that Sunday paper, a four-hour Sunday ritual for me.

One Sunday afternoon after giving up on another paper delivery, I found myself sitting on the roof by the pool. Sitting there, I noticed the only other two people on the roof happened to be reading that Sunday paper. I did not know them but knew they lived on the same floor as I did. Somehow, they were getting the elusive paper delivery.

Desperate to get my hands on that paper, I walked across to the other side of the pool deck on the roof and asked, “May I borrow the Lifestyle section of your Sunday paper?” The answer without hesitation was yes and that was the beginning of community building for me.

That simple act of asking to share a section of the paper was transformative. Those two neighbors were very welcoming and connected us to others, and it grew from there. Mostly through people we met enjoying the view of the downtown skyline and sunsets on the roof. I have wondered how my community building experience would have progressed had the Sunday paper delivery been consistent. Who knows.

The roof has its own stories of dinner parties, cooking on the grill, movies on inflatable screens, 4th of July fireworks shows and genuine conversations with neighbors. The last item on the list, conversations, will be the greatest memory. There were many. They were meaningful. I will carry some of those conversations with me forever.

As I head north 2,000 miles, after nearly nine years living in Bayou Lofts, I reflect on what I have I learned from my Bayou Lofts experience.

Do not underestimate the importance of community. Meet your neighbors and welcome new residents to the building. Keep the Holiday Loft Crawl going. Linger in the lobby over coffee on a Saturday morning. And most importantly, enjoy the sunsets and those conversations, on the roof with your neighbors. It matters.