I am Homeless

When people I meet ask me where I'm from, they usually get an answer something like this:

"ummmmmmmmmmmm?"

Its a long story. There are a lot of ways it could go. Do I tell them about being born in New England? Because thats where I'm technically 'from' - Danbury, CT. Do I tell them about Arizona, my Dad's house, growing up there? Do I tell them about the 4 moves across the country in the last 18 months? What about all the little places I've lived in between? Boston, North Carolina, Boston again? And do they even care?

With all of those questions floating around, I do know one thing now. I drove back to my little beach town today from AZ and when I turned off that highway into the wetlands, when I saw the ocean and the little tiny houses near the beach and the gigantic houses up on the hill, when that salt air hit my face and I felt like I could breathe better in Los Angeles than anywhere else I've lived, when I turned up my road between all the cute mid century houses-turned-apartments on the left and the beautiful assortment of homes perched on a hill on the right I felt like I was from here. I haven't been here long - just since March - and I'm leaving soon - but I sure do love this place.