Missing

I'm sunny, sunny, bright and shiny California this week. My hometown. The kids and I listened to that new song California girls while whizzing down the highway this morning and I thought how funny it is that there are so many California girls, like myself, who never wore Daisy Dukes or string bikinis or have skin so tan and hot that it melts popsicles. But whatever. So many songwriters have glorified the one percent of Californians who live on the Southern California beach in body and spirit. It's made us famous, no doubt.

My hometown California is much more grassy rolling hills dotted with oaks than beachy sand. I love where I grew up. And I miss it. Don't get me wrong. Just the other night, right before I left to make the drive, I sat atop Camel's Back, overlooking the entire Treasure Valley as the sun painted sherbet colors across the sky, and I thought, "Gosh, I love this place." It feels like home. Is home. But being back here, I'm reminded of why I have more than one home. I miss the rolling hills that make driving to and fro so fun. I miss not seeing around the next corner, or for miles because of hills. I miss my parents. I miss friends. I miss the Delta breeze that whips up cooler temperatures in the early evening. I miss sitting on my parents' patio in a chair to soak up that breeze.

In all things there must be opposition, contrasts. And so it's good to be away and come back again to appreciate and remember. In the end when we head back to DH and our house, I'll say to him and friends, the late-afternoon thunder bursts and the quirky downtown strips of stores, "I missed you."