going home

As I sit on the ocean front balcony (or maybe it's more like a porch) of my hotel I feel more blue than tan. It's the last morning of my family's Mazatlan, Mexico adventure and instead of being stoked to soak in this view one last time I'm mourning the loss of it.
My grandmother was born around 1912. She came of age before and during the Great Depression and despite being from a modest background, she (and most of my family tree) were all educated women who spoke multiple languages and played the piano.
Obama Jokes About Leaving Washington And Going Home
I will never be a true Californian. Now I know that for sure. For on the roads of Alabama, during a week in my Alabama hometown, I found something I'd been missing -- a grounding, a connection, a visceral familiarity.