I’m a California girl. Born and raised in what’s now a cozy wine country town. Where vineyards line the hillsides and world-class wineries dot the map.
Back in the day the wineries weren’t nearly as prevalent as the horses and cattle. I was born in the wrong decade, apparently.
Marrying into the military proved to be a one-way ticket out though. And–at the time–I looked at a cross-country move with wide-eyed wonder, imagining all the seeing and the doing.
All that only to find out that it’s true what they say: there really is no place like home.
Yet here I am. At home all over again. A new home. One that doesn’t come close to rivaling the real thing. But home it is, nevertheless.
There are thoughts tumbling in our heads. Opportunities swirling. Lots of maybes.
And so I’m looking at this home through different eyes. Slightly more romantic eyes. Nostalgic ones.
Driving does it to me every time. This desert terrain makes my heart yearn, in spite of the fact that we haven’t gone anywhere just yet.
I’d miss the topography: the charcoal mountain outline backed by a bleeding sunset.
I’d miss the cuisine. The fresh, far-from-greasy Sonoran tacos and enchiladas and fajitas.
I’d miss the monsoon. Especially sitting on the porch mid-July and watching as the midnight clouds in the distance give way to sheets of summer rain.
I’d miss the night sky. How it stretches on and on, interrupted only by the city, blanketed with lights.
I’d miss prickly pear margaritas. {Some of the} curious creatures that find their way into our backyard. And the friends we’ve made.
I’d miss the home we built, with all of its just-the-way-I-like-it charm.
I’d miss the Catalina mountains. The midnight howls of coyote. Pink, yellow, and magenta blooms of the cacti in spring.
I’d miss the Ocotillo. Desert jackrabbits that scurry about each morning. The promise of an early fall.
All of this I’d miss because even though it’s not really home? It sort of is.
How about you? What would you miss?









