If you know me, then you know that I am a "stay-er." I don't really crave adventure, I don't super love change, I don't need novelty the way some people do.
What I'm trying to say is that I don't order new things at restaurants. Ever. Feel free to judge. I get it, there could be a truly amazing a la carte street taco just one item down on the menu from the quesadillas, and I would miss it, because I've order chicken quesadillas... again. But man, I just really love quesadillas. And Matt is probably the only person in the world who could convince me to order anything other than quesadillas. And I would do it, not because I really believe I would like the a la carte street taco better, but because, for whatever reason, he is fixated on this personality defect. And it makes him happy when I try new things. So. Sometimes I do. Sometimes. Occasionally. But rarely.
Needless to say, moving to California was not part of the chicken quesadilla life plan.
And here we are, with so much of our life spilling out of our rent home on West Riverside Way. The belly laughs and the temper tantrums and the sounds of running feet are quite literally pouring out of our windows this afternoon.
It has been good.
It has been beautiful and difficult.
And it is a season that is coming to a close in the next few weeks, as our tiny tribe prepares to move our life back to the place that has our heart and our history and so much of our love tied up in it. Oklahoma, we have missed your people, and all that depth that only time can give. We've missed the rhythm of life that includes grandparents and great-grandparents. We've missed your sunsets and your thunderheads and the bliss of being snowed in with everything needed to make puppy chow and snow ice cream.
And we look forward to having a Daddy at the dinner table and date nights and couple friends, and community that grows with consistency and time (two commodities that haven't been afforded to us in California)
Oklahoma, we are just so ready to see you.
But California, in so many ways and for so many reasons you have been good to us. And our hearts are all a mess because it hurts to say goodbye to people and places that have become home. We have been loved throughly and well during this season. California, you are good people. And we will miss you. From the people that know our hearts the best, to the people who greet my boys by name at Trader Joe's, to the the trash men who honk their horns on Mondays . We will miss you. And we have been just so blessed by knowing you and walking with you.
California, we will miss the way the fog pours over the Santa Cruz mountains in the mornings and our view of it from the kitchen window. We will miss your beaches and watching our boys play chase with the waves. We will miss the way each of your seasons linger, and the distinct scent of fall and spring. We will miss your Palm trees and your Redwood trees and the smell of cedar. We will miss hiking your trails and exploring your forests and preserves.
And we will miss this house. This house that held us when we landed here, disoriented and overwhelmed. This house that held us when we brought sweet Chap home from the hospital, in exhausted bliss. This house that held us and our dance parties and our skinned knees and our movie nights and our birthdays. We will miss this house.
California, we love you and our hearts are all a mess. Oklahoma, we are comin at ya and we just can't even with our excitement. The Sanders are on the move.