10 years since

I left southern California, Orange County, my home base for most of my 35 years, ten years ago in November of 1997. Rented a storage unit and put the rest in the back of my pickup truck. I was so exhausted from the moving I spent an extra night at my sister's place in Las Vegas before making the rest of the drive. I was headed to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, the best ski area in North America, as ski resorts go. I stayed a couple seasons then moved to Washington.

In ten years the cost of living down there has more than doubled; buildings have sprouted up like ugly weeds, and there is still no discernible culture. Only a handful of friends are down there, one aunt; no other family remains. Which is kind of sad considering we all grew up there. And one sister in L.A. but has plans on relocating to the east coast, at some point.

I think about going back, mostly for that handful of friends with whom I share history. I also think about getting a masters degree, perhaps in a foreign country. I look at the box I live in, and although it's nice to own my own place, it's not where true happiness resides. My happiness is more dependent on relational aspects, and the northwest is not just cold in the winter but in its natives and their acceptance of outsiders.