I was just looking through Jen‘s photos from her weekend with her sister in town. Every time I look through her photos, I miss California something awful. When I feel discouraged and beaten down, it helps to just get away to somewhere pretty and let everything else fade away.
When I was at Stanford, there was never a shortage of pretty places to escape to. One night I drove over to Half Moon Bay and watched the moon set over the ocean. Another evening I went running back into the neighborhood where a lot of professors lived and worked my way up until I was at the top of the hill and could see all the way to San Francisco Bay. One weekend I went as far as the top of Half Dome in Yosemite with Becca; another time I only had to go a mile away and walk up to the Dish when Carter was visiting. I watched meteors with the control lab boys while lying on the golf course. Mom and I walked up into the foothills until we could see all the way to downtown San Francisco, and watched a sailboat almost capsize under the pull of its spinnaker as it went under the Golden Gate bridge.
In Houston today, it’s pouring rain. In Houston this summer, it will be sticky and hazy and hot. In California, even the highway had a view of golden, rolling hills; in Houston, it runs past endless strip joints and strip malls.
I know I must sound like a broken record sometimes, always talking about how I miss living in California. But Houston is just missing something.
I know the feeling… try moving to Houston from HAWAII!