My Cali-versary

the road

It was February 2, 1982...Groundhog Day...when I came to California to stay. Yes, I've written about it before: the '73 Buick, my plastic trash bag luggage, the desperado that was me at the wheel. I probably didn't realize what a fitting date it was.

Groundhog Day, which marks the halfway point between winter solstice and the start of spring, has traditionally been a turning point occasion. It evolved from the ancient tradition of Candlemas, when people placed candles in their windows to ward off midwinter's darkness.

Maybe I look too hard, but I can so easily picture the warm glow of candlelight through ice-frosted window panes, sights set on brighter days, hearts filled with yearning and hope. And so it was for me.

I suppose I've forfeited my credentials as a New Yorker by now, having lived in California for 32 years, which is slightly more than half of my life, and I don't know why I'm still surprised by that, but I am.

Every day. And grateful.If only it would rain....