What stands out the most when living in Texas is the sheer vastness.

Especially in the eastern regions, just a short drive leads to endless green pastures and roads that seem to stretch on forever. To my eyes, raised in Korea, this landscape still feels unfamiliar. Compared to the memories of gazing at the sky barely visible between the apartment buildings in a big city like Seoul, the sky here feels almost infinite.

A characteristic of this area is the neatly organized community housing developments lined up. After passing one development, another appears, and in between, there are surprisingly large lawns and trees. The sight of neighbors mowing their lawns every weekend has become a part of life in Texas.

Interestingly, the space between houses seems so wide that it makes Koreans think, "Wow, this is almost rural, isn't it?" However, locals say that this is the 'appropriate distance.' It respects privacy while allowing for help to be exchanged whenever needed. That's the charm of this place.

Venturing further into the countryside, you enter farming areas where land is measured in acres. Unlike Korea, where land is measured in pyeong, here, you need at least several thousand pyeong to be considered 'small.' The land stretches endlessly.

Many people raise cattle or keep horses, and it's common to find homes that grow crops like corn or pumpkins. As a result, it's not unusual to see herds of cattle grazing leisurely while driving down the road. Instead of rest areas on highways in Korea, here, small markets selling locally grown produce catch people's attention.

In Korea, the high population density made it natural to be in crowded and bustling environments. Bumping into people on subways or buses was a daily occurrence. However, in eastern Texas, you might drive for over an hour and encounter only a few vehicles.

This experience feels strange at first, but over time, it gives a sense of 'breathability.' I find myself feeling mentally relaxed. Instead of the stress accumulated in the chaos of the city, the stability that comes from the wide pastures fills my heart. Here, the life of "planting a tree in my front yard and having a grill for barbecues in the shade" is an ordinary weekend, something I could never have dreamed of in Korea.

Density of Happiness

The point of happiness I feel comes from the 'density of space.'

In Korea, due to the lack of space, homes, roads, and even people's privacy were tightly packed together. However, living in eastern Texas, I feel that the ample space between people also widens the space in my heart. There's no need to rush, and it's okay not to be impatient. Looking at the endless ranches and trees flowing by outside the car window makes me think, "Ah, today is going to be okay."

Having lived in New York and now in Texas for three years through a friend's introduction, this environment has been a significant turning point in my life.

Unlike the days of struggling to survive in the city, I am gradually realizing the simple truth that "just living is a joy." Of course, there are times when I miss the bustling streets and late-night food culture of Korea, but the exhilaration provided by the vast land of eastern Texas more than compensates for that longing.

Here, it seems that what matters more is not 'how much land I have' but 'how wide my heart is in living each day.' And that heart is a gift that this vast prairie and sky give me every day.