A Spooky Realization

Happy birthday, happy Halloween. For my birthday Friday we went out to a great Indian restaurant; for Halloween tonight we went to a party at Andrew’s boss’s house. The rest of the weekend has been strangely relaxing—gloriously so—with a nice lunch of pho on Saturday afternoon (Lucia had her first taste of Vietnamese food) and the farmer’s market today. We got groceries, ordered pizza, took walks, played, read. It seemed so quiet, so civilized, so normal, so…nice.

One week of Mountain View down. And, I hope, infinite more to go! Ha! Things have taken an interesting turn! Instead of feeling like our return to California is a burden and a horror, we are slightly horrified to realize that this time around we…like it. It feels treacherous even to write this, seeing as how the past three years have been more or less a long rant against the Golden State. But the thing is—and I think I made this clear in my summing-up-our-CA-years posts—we did grow to have a certain fondness for certain California things and places. We were so miserable for so long, but at a certain point—likely coinciding with our pregnancy and baby and move to Roseville—things just settled into comfortable settledness, in our lovely house and lovely backyard and everything we could possibly need just a five-minute drive away. In the end we left so quickly—it was literally just a few weeks from job offer to cross-country move—that it was almost impossible to register all that we were leaving behind.

Anyway, we just feel relaxed. It’s very strange, and it happened very quickly. There are redwoods outside our living room windows. There is a bright blue sky, high-sixties sunny days. All week Andrew’s been home earlier than he is in New York, simply because the office is a quick five-minute drive away. There is a spectacular year-round farmer’s market. This weekend we just relaxed at home (poor Lucia has a cold and cough)—and though we also relax at home in Brooklyn, this just felt somehow more relaxing, more laidback. And I’m not sure why this is. Is it because we’re removed from the errands and tasks that go along with living in an actual household, rather than a “furnished” corporate apartment with exactly one frying pan? Is it because hopping in the car to go somewhere doesn’t involve dreading the search for parking once we return? Is it because there is simply more space in which to move and breathe?

I don’t know. Surely, we don’t want to move back to California. Surely we don’t. The soul-suckingly-exhausting cross-country flight with a one-year-old is reason enough to stay back East. So what does it all mean? What do these thoughts and feelings add up to? I have no answers, not yet. But this week Lucia and I will make a daily trip to a great playground across the street, where she has discovered the sand pit. We’ll pick up some interesting snacks at the Asian grocery store nearby. We’ll hop in the car and explore the Daiso store I discovered today near Trader Joe’s. We’ll walk down Castro Street, browse in a used bookstore, have a cup of coffee (an indulgence I’m once again allowing myself now that we’re almost weaned). And it won’t be bad. It won’t be bad. At. All.