Should I have a gif here of someone blowing dust off an long-neglected object? Maybe.
It’s 2019. The last time I wrote here, I had just moved to California. It’s been just over six months now since we left Connecticut.
I won’t lie. It’s rough. I’m lonely. I miss my family. I long for my friends, and the easy camaraderie. I have serious FOMO. I’m still struggling to find my “people” here.
Thank god for the internet, right? Makes it easier to hold on. But, also harder to let go. Life might be simpler if I let go but I hold on, painful as it is.
People ask me how I like California. Truth is, I’m neutral. I haven’t fallen in love with it and I left a lot behind that I won’t find here. I can’t complain about California. It’s FINE. The weather is definitely more my speed. That’s the strongest feeling I can muster. I feel like a brat, to be honest.
I try to be grateful, thankful. We’re here because Henry landed his dream job. There are far, far worse reasons that cause a family to pick up roots and move elsewhere.
I don’t want to be consumed by resentment. I want to embrace this as an adventure, a chance to try something new, an opportunity for our family to secure a better financial future.
I don’t know if I’ll ever get over the feeling of longing for home, because home is not a physical place for me. Home was the people, my people. The kids are feeling it, too. I have hope that they’ll settle in sooner than I will but they still ask often if we’re ever going back home. I ask myself, too.
That’s my answer. This is where we are, for now.