California and Me

There it was. The sign. “Welcome to California”. I felt a smile tug at the corners of my mouth which quickly turned into an unbridled grin. I made it. Up until this moment California had been merely a figment of my imagination. Was it real? That state from the postcards and movies? She was real. She is real, and she is one of the few places on this earth I have landed on and felt at home. The horizon lay out before me in a way I had never experienced before. I felt like I had just discovered the final corner of the world to be explored. Sure, my husband and I had moved around our fair share. I had traveled and experienced new places, things, and people. But this was different and I could feel it in my bones. Our first real home was in San Diego, California. We were completely and utterly removed from our families who lived in a rural town on the east coast; where we had moved from. To be so separated from them felt like a travesty at first. But it bloomed into something so beautiful that I treasure to this day. It forced us to look at ourselves apart from our families and decide what life would look like. For starters, it looked like a lot of beach trips, Trader Joe's grocery shopping, Ramen eating, and sneaking off to Los Angeles for a taste of Hollywood glamor. Perhaps the most magical of all though, for the first time since childhood, I was dreaming again. Real, huge, massive, dreams. When you live in California, you are constantly surrounded by people who have made their dreams a reality. It’s inspiring, fueling, and addictive. There is an energy and spirit there that says “Anything is possible”. I was constantly solo parenting my two children while my husband was away at sea. Yet, I was able to find beauty in everything once more. The good, the bad, and even the ugly. I didn't think that my ability to dream big had left me because I hadn’t even released her departure.  I just needed to find it once more. Once I did, I promised myself I would never let go ever again even if it meant living life in a quasi-state of delusion. 

“La Vie En Rose” would drift through the speakers as  I drove over the Coronado bridge at sunset to drop my husband off at his assigned aircraft carrier. While having him gone could be excruciating, I still knew everything would be ok. I would go home, tuck the children in bed, put on a show, write, sew, maybe clean. (but let's face it probably not) and I would BE. Simply be. Still with my thoughts, free to cultivate in whichever direction they choose to go. The movie Inside Out was on a loop that year. My daughter Audrey became obsessed with it and the character Joy. Is there a more perfect soundtrack to accompany such a formative time though? Reflecting back, I am so struck by how San Diego, California became a core memory for all of us. My husband, daughter, and son; all dream of living in California again. Is it California herself? Or merely what we experienced there? I don’t know, but it's forever and always embedded in our emotional DNA.  I find myself writing all the time now. I have a desire to cultivate beauty more than ever. California remains a beacon of possibility for me. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world when I learned we had received orders to move there. That feeling never faded for me during our stay or after we left. I am eternally grateful to have found a home there. I once asked a friend if a state can be one of the great loves of your life. The answer was a resounding “yes”. So yes, I categorize California as one of the great loves of my life that I’ve had. And maybe I’m onto the next adventure for now but I’ll be back. Till we meet again, California. 

xoxo,

Liv