There's no place like home

I've been living in California for just under a year now, and it's becoming increasingly apparent to me just exactly how obvious it is that I'm not from here. It's been brought to my attention that my bold, need to follow up, straight to the pointed-ness has been a topic of discussion among my laissez faire, sounds like a nice idea, california "yes" (which really means, that sounds like a great idea but I would never actually consider doing it and don't expect you to actually plan it) answering friends. I think I might come off as a tad bit pushy and abrasive...but that's just what I've picked up on. 
The jury is still out on where exactly the intricacies of my attitude are derived from. Is it from being raised in the northeast by parents who grew up in Massachusetts, and have strong family ties to the 'oh so classy' side of Lawrence, Mass where everyone add's a 'y' or an 'ie' to the end of their name...Timmy, Micky, Dickie, Eddie. "Eddie I'm gonna go sit in the cah'r its too damn cold out here...the what? The car... C.A.H!"....Oh God bless us..
 Is it my Portugee heritage who are known for being loud, but not because they're yelling, just because they're Portuguese? Is it from my need to be in control and a smidgen bossy and for some reason feel the need to be loud about what I want? "Joshy! Get ova' here Joshy! Joshy get ova' here right now!"...gosh I was such an angel as a child...my poor brother. 
Or maybe it's my need to be stubborn just to make my point loud and clear..."It's gonna take me a looonnnggg time to eat all these french fries.........." as Nancy ever so patiently smiled at me and thought to herself.."where did this stubborn little devil-child come from?!"....bless her heart.
I might feel a kindred connection to Charlene (chah-lene), the mtv girl from Lowell, who's pretty face and and smile only last through so many times of being called an mtv girl before she'll knock a b***h out. I don't know, I'm just sayin'. 
I always have my nails polished, love wearing black clothing and red lipstick and listening to Billie Holiday as I spend an hour..hour and a half in the bathroom every morning. When I was home recently my mother came into the bathroom, as I was ever-so-carefully applying my very black mascara, and asked me how I ever got to be so particular about my maintenance, cause she surely was never that way...yea right Ma, you had the biggest poodle hair, stirrup pants and slouchy socks with high-top Velcro Reebok's than any other mother when I was a kid. You bred me to be a fashion-ista. 


Speaking of my recent trip home, it was so good to be home. I've been home a few times since moving to California, and I've never been so aware of the uniqueness of home until this trip. The first thing I noticed when I stepped off the plane was the smell of New England. That salty, humid smell. I took a deep breath in through my nose and a smile instantly formed on my face. That's one of my favorite things about New England. And New England is so green...like GREEN. California is pretty beige colored except for the month of March when it's bright green before everything dries up. In New England, there's so many different shades of green, and it's everywhere, all the time. Even in the wintertime there's green pine trees everywhere. The ocean is only a mile and a half away, and there's freshwater everywhere. I love driving down the road in the middle of the night, with the windows down because it's so hot and humid out, and knowing you're driving by freshwater, even if you can't see it, because you can hear the peepers. For my west coast friends: Peepers are the insects and amphibians that live in the water and make the sound of summer nights in New England.  I learned recently that 'peepers' is a foreign term out here....strange. 
Everyone back home either owns a boat, canoe or a kayak and many summer days/nights are spent standing by, swimming in or boating on freshwater. 


 Home.... late night bonfires where you get eaten alive by mosquitos, beach cruises in the convertible, cigar sessions on the seawall while listening to so much music the battery dies...but that's OK, it's New England and if you run far enough in either direction you're bound to run into someone you know that will give you a jump. 
Home....backyard lobstah bakes followed by a caravan of cars driving to the beach plum where you walk up to the takeout window for homemade hard ice cream (not soft serve 'fro-yo') for the second third time that week. Where you walk the strip, play some ski-ball at the arcade, swing by Blips Blinks for a doughboy (another east coast treat) and settle in on the sand for fireworks every Wednesday and Saturday night in the summer. 
Home...games of cribbage on the deck, huddled around the citronella candle drinking an ice cold beer or 'Boston Tea Party', my favorite summertime drink. 
Home...trips to Fenway, the most nostalgic ballpark in the nation where you drink Sam Adam's on tap, eat foot long Fenway Franks and sing Sweet Caroline during the seventh inning stretch.
Home...where people act like me, talk like me and have the same sense of humor as me... or they at least know what I'm talking about when I say doughboy and peepers. 
And most of all, home is where family is. No matter how crazy, dysfunctional, blended and unique family is...there's no place like home and being surrounded by family. 
When I announced I was moving to California, everyone was shocked. It was a very spontaneous decision..which is how I always roll. 
And I think most of you will be equally shocked to hear about my most recent spontaneous decision... It is very bitter sweet...
I'm moving back home to the east coast. 
I know it's sudden. And trust me, I love living in California. You can't beat the weather or the enormous variety of food options where you basically just pick which country you want to eat from and you can find a restaurant (or 10) nearby....even if it's Ethiopian. I was able to go hiking all 'winter' long and didn't have to wake up extra early to shovel off and start my car a half hour before needing to leave. I've been welcomed into peoples lives and homes and taken care of by almost complete strangers, who quickly became like family. I have the greatest community and circle of friends that anyone could ask for, thanks to Cornerstone Fellowship. Friends who have left a lifelong impact on me, who have shared their west coastness with me, and fully embraced my loud and proud northeast coastness. 
I have grown more in this last year than I think I ever have in any other year of my life. I will always look back and remember my year in California with fond memories and take the experiences I have had here with me for the rest of my life. I hope I've left as much of an impact on my friends here, as they've left on me. And I hope that they'll never forget me.
I will miss this place, and the incredible people I'm leaving behind. But...there's just no place like home..and it's time for me to go back to the northeast, where I belong.