In 2018, I took my first trip to LA to stay with a girl in Glendale who was supposed to teach me how to sew. The sewing didn’t stick, but LA did. I was working for my family’s shirt business, so the sewing lessons were more of an excuse to get me to LA. I spent most of my time getting the rundown on the city from the East Side natives I was staying with. I was training for a marathon, so I was able to gain my own LA perspective by running 18-plus milers throughout the city. Running is the ultimate tour guide. You experience a place while getting a steady drip of serotonin, dopamine, and sweat. It’s truly the best.
During my trip, I visited a friend in Venice. I was lucky to get both East and West Side experiences. I got up extra early and went from Glendale to Venice Beach to get in a run before meeting up with my friend. It was a gloomy August day, misty and perfect for a long boardwalk run. After years of living in Montana, Venice Beach was interestingly epic. I can still remember my ear-to-ear grin as I ran the boardwalk. I knew I would die and go straight to heaven on a sunny day. At the end of my run, I took my sneakers off, walked up to the ocean’s edge, let the water sweep over my feet, and cried. I felt as if I had finally arrived. I knew I was home.
In June 2024, I moved to LA. Six years of healing needed to take place before I could arrive where I was destined. I never gave up on that feeling on Venice Beach, that intuitive knowing I was supposed to be in LA. By 2024, I was ready. My internal compass was nudging me, saying, “It’s time.” Knowing that something will happen in your life is a gift, but it also means respecting time because you may not be ready for it or other things just haven’t entirely aligned. I spent six years patiently waiting to be ready.
Today, I am thinking about places and the feeling of home. Is where we are born always “home,” or where we grow up, or is it someplace that we know is part of us even before it is? Moving to LA after 13 years in Montana was a big deal. I had so many feelings, goodbyes, and unknowns. Leaving all the roots I had planted behind and soaring into a wild city at 35 felt nuts. I think certain leaps in life feel partially crazy. Moving to LA has been one of them, but I knew something was supporting me in the endeavor, and coming home never disappoints.
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