Apparently it’s blizzarding on the east coast. I am selling strawberries. They are not as soft and sticky-sweet was summer ones, but they are poised, crisp and delicious. I think I may have a little suntan from being outside selling strawberries. This is what gloating looks like; a Mediterranean climate, good food, people who love me, and a roof over my head.
I’m back, neigh, I am home. After a whirlwind fall ‘09 tour of Colorado which involved; thesis writing, teaching, telling stories from Africa, cooking lots of squash, and making up for lost micro-brew time, I returned home. But this time, not alone.
Driving across Colorado, Utah, and Nevada with a surfboard atop your car elicits some priceless double takes, especially when a little corolla in a snow storm is the bearer of the board. In December I drove straight from snowy Colorado to sunny Los Angeles. At the airport I picked up the love of my life, still disoriented from bouncing through time zones and multiple planes, to embark on the journey which would determine the course of our future. After spending the holidays in Greenville, CA with high Sierra snow and hometown friends, we began.
The corolla, fondly called Finnigan, was loaded down with surfboards, coffee, some changes of clothes and a lot of hope. It began in San Francisco, the quest for a place to call home. We stayed with friends along the way, evaluating job opportunities, living arrangements, surf breaks, good food, and the potential to immerse in a community. We made stops in cities that dotted the California coast, driving the windy Highway 1 through breathtaking Big Sur. We surfed in Santa Cruz and visited farms in Watsonville. We feasted in Morro Bay, and watched the sunset in San Fran parks and on Santa Monica beaches. After a few weeks of sleeping on floors in living rooms and kitchens, or feeling guilty as we ousted warm-hearted friends out of their beds, the quest grew weary. A particularly rough day when the camera with all the photos documenting the excursion and the ipod Dj-ing the trip were stolen, dampened our spirits a bit. As we took the exit for Carpinteria Avenue, a warm glow just around heart center emerged. This was it. A good night of sleep and sunny subsequent days sealed the deal.
I am once more counting the days until my other half returns from Africa, but this time with great peace as the quest for home has ended. Thus far life is simple and beautiful, what more could I ask for? I get to sell beautiful organic produce to people in my community and serve them delicious food from a local restaurant. The other day a professor of mine from Westmont came into the restaurant where I serve. I immediately felt a need to tell him that I have my Master’s and have been working in Africa etc. etc. Why? Oh some definition of expectations and success that keep people unsatisfied. After pouring him more coffee I realized the only thing I need to express is my gratitude for finding home and a little perspective.
