California Nostalgia

My California roots are strong and true. No matter how far I roam, my tired feet are soothed upon returning. This is the very place that taught them how to move.

As a child, I found curiosity for things far beyond the boundaries of reality. Some days I was a witch, a fairy, a tiger. And on others, I was five performers all at once. I was an only child, who enjoyed chatting with my imaginary friend. She lived in the mirror.

I sang like a nightingale, and longed to fly like the bird they told me I was. Bruised knees were always complimented by laughter and determination. Bliss was easy in those early years, and I know I am lucky. I felt a whole lot of love.

As they often do, times grew wearisome after the first decade. The way things were began to crumble under the overwhelming weight of change.

Loved ones hurt each other, sourcing new bitterness, dishonesty, and separation. But I understood.

I had the privilege of visiting far away places before I really knew how to appreciate the learning. Still, I found inspiration in all of the possibility that lived outside of my familiar corner of the world.

I sought shelter in the mountains and by the ocean. We picked wild flowers and wore ripped tights wherever we went. At nighttime, we’d leap with fury into semi-risky shenanigans, for trivial reasons that would lose their relevance soon enough.

Over the years, cherished companions were lost, torn apart by accident and the inner turmoil of growing up. My mind began playing tricks on me, and I became trapped for a while within the twisted reality of my overthinking brain.

After moving north, I was born again, amongst the redwood forests and new friendly faces. I fell in love with adventure, and rediscovered the beauty within natural spaces that I once knew so well.

Slowly, I lost the blissful ignorance that had once kept me isolated. I listened intently, absorbing as much knowledge and perspective as I could carry.

New comprehension of this world’s injustice and corruption left me continually outraged. I found my voice, and learned how to use it.

California—the beautiful, the progressive, the abundant—taught me to crave constant personal growth. The people and places here will eternally remain a part of me. I will always come back, but in what capacity, I am uncertain.

As I see it, growing requires letting go of familiar comfort, and rebuilding as it all comes to you in the present moment.

Here’s the thing about nostalgia that’s rooted in place: you begin to see everything for what it used to be, rather than for what it is.

And that little truth tells you when it might be time to move along.