Last weekend I learned it was possible to make peace with San Diego.
I learned it was possible to add another home to my list of homes, three of the most beautiful places in America (I’d like to think, at least). I learned it was possible to drop the leftover remains of heartache away and inhale the salty air with a certain lightness I haven’t felt in a while.
Make peace? What?
Well truth be told, I didn’t know what it would be like to finally venture back to SD after I moved away. This past weekend back was my first real return, and though I still remain close to my best friends there, the place itself used to stir up all the feels:
Would I miss it too bad? Would I have any twinge of regret over what I left behind? Would it still feel the same?
Our lives are a constant ebb and flow of nouns.
People, places, things– we call them ours for a season and then we say goodbye, let go, move on, leaving a pile of nouns in our wake during each transition.
This isn’t necessarily careless, this isn’t even a bad thing. Circumstances change. WE change. We grow. Other places and people and things, sometimes they change with us. Grow with us.
And other times, they don’t.
This is ok.
So here’s my moment of pure honesty: a couple of weeks ago I started missing some of my old nouns like heck:
When I steered my car into the parking lot of the beach– my beach– I knew San Diego was no longer home.
The palm tree-lined cliffs dropped into the ocean and the sun shone as brightly ever. It was nearly 70 degrees in the middle of February. I dipped my toes into the foam, watching the small waves swallow my travel-tired feet. Nothing had changed.
Well, you know, besides me.
For the majority of us, change–moving– is inevitable. We do it for jobs, for fresh faces, for love, for school, because we need to.
We load up our cars or hire hands to do so. We drive the miles, or just mere blocks. We root down only to uproot a year later, or remain firmly planted where we first blossomed.
And then, we must remake our homes wherever we are at. It is just what we do.
Ever since I turned 21, one of my San Diego bucket list items has been taking a wine tasting trip to Temecula. After my dear friend Jessica’s wedding at Ponte Winery last April, I knew I had waited too long to make the trip.
Well thank you, 25th birthday, for giving me the perfect excuse to gather up the girls for some vino, blurry photo shoots, a whole lotta laughter, and an Adele & gangsta rap singalong car trip.
I moved here for the ocean.
For the liquid gold sunsets, the palm tree silhouettes, the sand in my toes, the infinite horizon. I stayed for the people, the friendships and connections, for the streets my tires feet familiar on.
This week was a glorious tribute of just why I love San Diego so much– and why am so grateful to call it home.