Crumpled Notebook

So, as of last Saturday, I have been living here in California for 3 years. One more year and it will surpass any amount of time I’ve lived anyplace since graduating high school (I was in Bowling Green, KY for 4 years).

Counting my AmeriCorps time, I’ve worked for The Salvation Army longer than anyplace else.
One more year and I will have been her as long as I spent in college, and also high school.

Really though, it is home. I’m not sure if I blogged about this after the holidays (and I don’t feel like looking), but when I came back from St. Louis, after a week at home for Thanksgiving, preparing for Christmas here, 2 days in Kentucky for Christmas, one day back here, and 6 days in St. Louis, I was never so ready to be home. I don’t mean my apartment either. I mean in California-Home. When we touched down in San Jose, I had this overwhelming since of happiness. A sense that I was in my home. I know, most of you probably won’t understand this. But seriously, for the past 3 years, the word “home” has kind of had a vague meaning. I come “home” from work, but I fly “home” for Christmas. When I’m in Kentucky, I’m at “home”, but I leave to go “home” (to California) on such and such day.

But I got it now. This is home (for now anyway). 3 years is a long time.

Funny story. I ate at Olive Garden the other night and I commented that I hadn’t ate at an Olive Garden since I moved here…in almost 3 years! I can’t even imagine all the things I haven’t done, or places I’ve not been, or even people I haven’t seen in 3 years.

I’m more than half way to 5 years. How crazy is that?!