I had forgotten how comfortable Los Angeles is to me. Driving into town two days ago felt like coming home.
Well, not home per se, but definitely to a well-known, loved spot.
When I moved away 11 years ago, I wasn't expecting really to stay in Northern California for very long. Guy wanted to retire and was looking at Oregon. The plan was to go with him. If I had been ready to retire (no, I have no freakin' clue why I wasn't ready to retire in my 20s - who in her right mind would refuse to retire mid-twenties? I ask you), I would have been gone.
Instead, I have a life in Northern California, where I feel like I'm coming home when I drive back. I wonder if it'll feel that way when I journey to Indiana or even Arizona next week to get Sam.
I guess, really, home is where you make it.
Either that, or where your friends are. Which makes all of these places home for me.