I don’t want to dwell too much on this “Where is my home?” question, but it’s something that weighed on my mind throughout the past couple of days in Turlock. I took my seat on the plane back to Seattle a few hours ago and the gentleman next to me asked, “Heading home?”, and I caught myself hesitating before I responded with an emphatic “Yes”. That 90-minute plane ride was host to a number of emotions for me: one part sadness over having just said good-bye to my parents and girlfriends; one part thankfulness for the time I got to spend shopping and hanging out with Amanda and Francine (dearest friends), chatting with my parents, and stuffing myself with some absolutely fabulous burritos from the local Mexican joints; one part (or maybe two parts?) excitement over returning to Seattle and seeing Shane; and one part bitter-sweet acceptance that Turlock really isn’t home to me anymore. That town holds sooo many memories for me, and there’s comfort of the familiarity of it all, but I was reminded throughout the weekend that it just doesn’t “fit” me anymore. This is largely due to the fact that my parents have sold the house in which I spent many of my adolescent years and are moving up to Oregon later this month, but that’s really only part of the reason for my emotional departure from this small town in the Central Valley. I’ve realized that I belong in a city where new construction consists of high-rises rather than strip malls, where I have a choice of spending my Saturday morning in a local cafe or an art museum, and where I can have Thai food for lunch on Monday, Indian on Tuesday, and Greek on Wednesday (though Turlock’s Mexican food trumps Seattle’s any day). I’m not knocking my small-town roots – my two closest friends lead very fulfilling lives in Turlock, surrounded by people they’ve known and loved for years, and they’ve proved that staying there has its advantages. Shane and I don’t get to run into old friends from high school all the time, and we can’t pull together an impromptu family-wide picnic on a Sunday afternoon. But still, I’m happy in Seattle, because God has wired me with this “urban craving” that I just can’t suppress. There are people and things in California that I will forever miss – which is completely ok, but I can’t let these things keep me from further rooting myself in Seattle. Next steps? Stop obsessing about this whole singular definition of “home” (why is this such a big deal to me?) and simply enjoy the transition from Californian to Seattle-ite…