It actually wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t advertised either. Two weeks ago I went back to Glendale. I was gone for less than 48 hours and most of them were spent traveling or sleeping. (Yeah, you’re right, I didn’t sleep much.)
I went out for a meeting, so most of my time was spent working. It was crazy to drive the same streets I had known so well for eight years, to see what has changed and what hadn’t at all. I got to stay with friends (because I work with friends), I got to see my sister in law and my amazing nephews, and I held court at Mexicali to visit with friends from school, staying until the only way out of the restaurant was the side.
And then it was over, like a dream. I was pleased that my navigation of the area hasn’t dimmed at all. I was happy to see friends and family. I felt strange going back without making a bold statement, without making attempts to see everyone.
I had fun. But I was happy to get back home to my family. While I do still and always will miss my friends, I am happy that I no longer live there. I do not miss California, but I am so glad for the memories.