I have California moments. These are times when, completely out of the blue, something hits me and I almost leave my husband a note:
Moved back to San Diego. Took the boy. Don't worry, we still love you.
Today I took the little dictator to the mall because I was in need of a new pair of jeans. We had a good time. There were no tantrums. Jeans were purchased. Lunch was had. At the end of lunch he saw the carousel and very near had a coronary trying to pitch himself over the side of his stroller while screeching and pointing frantically. I didn't really want to take him on the carousel because there was no one else with me to watch the stroller, diaper bag, and purchases. And I really didn't want to lug the bags up onto the thing with me. So I took him to the play area instead. He slid on the dino slides, he hid in the play logs, and he spun the giant globe they have in the center. Each continent on this particular globe is painted a different color but there are no cities or state lines or mountains or bodies of water other than the major oceans. When North America went whirling by I smiled to myself. I've always loved how easy it is to find where I live. Just trace your finger up to the very top of Baja and move it another couple millimeters to the north. I was just about to show Garrett how to find where we live when it hit me. Out of the middle of nowhere I almost starting crying right in the middle of Dino Towne Play Area. On this particular globe there wasn't even a blue dot representing The Great Salt Lake. I could have ventured a guess as to where on the globe we were at that very moment but for all I know I might have pointed to somewhere in eastern Nevada or southern Idaho. It was suddenly very disconcerting to only have a vague idea where I was.
And I am not saying that I'm not supposed to be here--because I am. I am not saying that the Lord did not lead us here--because he did. I am not saying that I want to move back or that I don't have friends here or that there aren't four thousand and one reasons to be happy in my new home. I'm just saying that the homesickness sneaks up on me, unwarranted and unexpected. It's in the fact that my mom couldn't meet me at the mall today. It's in the sweater that I am wearing at the end of April. It's in the discovery that there are only two Jack in the Boxes in this whole state and they are in southern Utah. You'd think since it took me five months to realize this it wouldn't be a big deal but the fact of the matter is that I kind of wanted Jack in the Box when it was determined that I could not have it. It's in the epiphany that I'm not just above Baja anymore. There are a great many miles between me and that endless ocean now.
I find a great deal of comfort in the fact that when Abraham was 75 God called him to leave all he knew. He took his wife and his nephew and set out from Haran. Sarah probably wasn't terribly thrilled. And on top of it all Abraham was paranoid about getting killed by the Egyptians. At least when I moved my husband didn't make me tell everyone I was his sister. Thank goodness for that. But it turned out pretty well for ole Abraham. You know, "I will make you a great nation," and all of that. The thing is, you can know you're where you're supposed to be and still have California moments.
He might only have 20 or so words in his vocabulary, but today he strung three of them together and said, "No more, mama." He was only repeating what I told him to say but if you lived in the house of the incessant babbling you, too, would be beside yourself with joy.