The East Coast
When I first arrived on the east coast for college, I wrote, “I live on the east coast, but I left my heart in San Francisco.” Now, after spending over four years in the northeast, I feel oddly attached to the deadly hot and humid summers, the deadly cold and frigid winters, the congregation of several states in close geographical proximity, and the prominence of artistic culture and influence.
I came back to California yesterday and I felt like I was in a strange, foreign land. If anything, it seemed like the countryside compared to walking-friendly Providence and New York City. Granted, not much has changed, but the minute changes made it seem like this wasn’t exactly home. In addition to that, it was on the east coast that I discovered the most about myself, thus creating some sort of attachment to the region that has defined my interests, shaped my views, and roughened me up for “real life.”
Still coming to terms with the fact that I’ll be gone from the east coast for a long time. In fact, in a few weeks, I’ll be gone from America for a long time.