I didn't think I'd ever want to leave sunny California. It's where all my family is; where the produce is fresh and abundant; where I can always find Guerrero tortillas, sometimes in the 30 pack. But I found myself wanting more than what LA has to offer, or at least wanting something different.
This is different all right--just the weather alone reminds me that I'm not in SoCal anymore. While you guys are having a heat wave in the middle of November, I'm piling clothes on top of the winter coat I already put on in California (subconscious acts on my part to eat my way to warmth). The leaves are falling off the trees, but not before they turn those colors you see on TV, or on the fake wreaths you can buy for autumnal affectation. And it rains a lot. And the weather channels keep threatening us with snow.
I did, however, have a mini oh-the-gods!-i-am-now-living-in-Chicago-moment last night as I was looking at all my short-sleeved shirts wondering if really thick thermals would look good underneath them. It was a brief one. A little spike on my (ever active) emotional Richter scale.
1 comment:
You won't feel like you actually moved away and live somewhere else for at least 6 months. That is the amount of time it takes for your brain to adapt to big life changes like that. 6 months, and you'll be a trooper. One year, and you will know all the seasons. By year two, you'll be pro. It does take a little bit of time.
Two plus years down here and I finally am feeling settled in, but not 100%, still!
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