I am back in my home state of California.

I have been gone so long, and lived in Florida so long (with a few other states sprinkled in-between), that Florida has become my home.

But flying over the desert as we approached Los Angeles I saw the Salton Sea, a lake I spent most of my weekends at from age 6 to 13, and a flood of memories filled my senses.

Why we went there, God only knows. It was smack in the middle of nothing, it was HOT, and this fair haired blue eyed girl likely got most of her skin cancer right there at the Salton Sea. Still those memories fill my heart.

As soon as I landed and got my rental car I headed out to the San Fernando Valley to visit the home I lived in at that time. I made my first piece of pottery while living there. It was at that house that I decided to become an artist.

Next, I drove to Orange County to visit the home my family later moved to, where I spent my high school years; an awkward, insecure time in my life, but also a time full of crafting and artwork. I was still forging ahead with my dream of being an artist.

After graduation I left California, never to live again.

It hadn’t occurred to me that California would pull at my heartstrings again, but it has. I see familiar street names and landmarks that prompt so many memories. I’ve visited the Pacific Ocean and hear the waves call out to me, “Come back, come back,” they say, and I imagine the possibility.

There are no accidents. I believe this lesson has been delivered to me for a reason, one I can only guess at now, but I imagine I’ll have a better understanding after I have been here a week. This is my home base, after all, the place that formed who I am today.

No matter where we roam, home will always be home.