I was in California for a whole week and only took two pictures with my camera. (My phone, however, tells another story.) I had planned to take a ton of photos of everywhere we went and report back in the form of a blog post, but I ended up pretending to live there instead, so my camera stayed in my bag every day until I grabbed an Uber to Baker Beach, which has a really dreamy view of the Golden Gate Bridge.
The fog was lying low so the top of the bridge was mostly hidden--I wrapped my scarf more tightly around my neck and walked the length of the shore, holding my sandals in one hand and letting the freezing water lap up against my feet; actually soaking the bottom of my jeans at one point.
A week isn't a long time, but Rob has been traveling so much that having him come back to me every night really did make me feel at home. It quieted some of the anxiety I've been holding about moving across the country, away from my family and so many of the friends that know me best. When I was writing my book, the "About the Author" section stumped me--where was I supposed to tell people I lived?
Technically we're still in Charlotte but why would I put that if we knew we were leaving? But to write California made no sense to me because we hadn't moved yet. I ended up going with a cheesy but incredibly accurate "She has lived in California, Virginia, Minnesota, and North Carolina; and currently considers home to be wherever her husband and their rescue dog are." At the time I pictured us all in our car, somewhere between Charlotte and San Francisco.
Home behind us, home ahead of us.
How surreal that we're a month away from just that.