Today I leave my house in CA for the final time. It was just sold to this nice couple–professors–who wish to retire in my little fishing community.

The only way I can begin to describe how this feels:

Like an awkward break up with a boyfriend that I’ve been with for too long (14 years, to be exact) but that I never knew all that well.

(To be clear, the house is the boyfriend in this case. Not California. I’ll never fully be able to cut that umbilical cord.)

As with all boyfriends past, I sensed that the arrangement came with an expiration date. While beautiful, everything about this house screams “I’m temporary” though I’ve never bothered to acknowledge it: the stucco walls; the beach-friendly plastic patio furniture; the fireplace in our backyard which is for “decorative use only”.

I feel like I should say something about missing all the young people that I went to high school with, but that would be a lie.

What I DO REALLY miss is New York…(shaking my head)

So much in fact that it caught me completely off guard. Does this mean I’m a New Yorker now???

How do you know?

“I’m gonna miss you…I’m gonna miss you like I miss the ocean when I go to sleep…I think it’s gonna break my heart…” (California–Mason Jennings)


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