California Dreaming

After Dan died I kept busy, working on his website and legacy from our home in Maine and returning to the ranch in Colorado when needed. The remoteness of both places was good, both for work and dealing with my grief. In 2015 the ranch finally sold and I lived full-time in Maine. I have wonderful friends there, and they filled our home with good juju and got me out and about from time to time, but I knew this wasn’t where I wanted to spend my silver years.

My mother died in 2017, my father in 2018, and time seemed more fleeting and fragile than ever. Then the pandemic hit and the isolation of the island started pressing in on me. I began to think seriously about where I wanted to retire. I had originally planned to return to Santa Fe, but during a trip there I found myself continually bumping into bittersweet memories of Dan. I knew nothing could ever compare to those heady days of our courtship and wedding.

I seriously considered moving to Shropshire, in the lush green hills of England, one of my favorite places on earth. Perhaps the warms waters of Florida, or Hawaii, where my mother and grandmother were born? But no place was tugging at me hard enough to make me leave the house we had built on the Reach, and so I stayed. I was still mulling all of this over last September, when I returned to Lompoc, California for my 50th high school reunion.

I hadn’t even considered California. But while dancing with the kids (now adults) that I’d grown up with, I felt a sense of familiarity and belonging. I spent the next two weeks revisiting the places where I’d progressed from a child to a woman. Santa Maria - where I left college and my job at Denny’s to perform in bands five nights a week in San Luis Obispo, Shell Beach, Pismo Beach, and Grover City. Solvang - where I ended up ten years later, performing solo and getting my first paintings into art galleries. Marriage, divorce, marriage, so much history! And it was more beautiful than I’d remembered, or maybe I was old enough now to appreciate it.

Usually, after a trip, I’d return to our home in Maine and thoughts of living elsewhere would fade. This time, though, I walked in the door and realized I was already gone. After three weeks of looking online, I found the right house. It was older, and would need some work, but it had everything I needed. Twelve hectic weeks later, amid snow flurries, I quickly loaded the kitties into the car and drove west, just ahead of the first storm of the season.

Growing up in the mid-west, Dan would watch “Where the Action Is” and dream of someday meeting a California girl. I was lucky enough to be that girl, and I know he would be happy to see the woman I’ve become, back where I began, painting, playing music with new friends, and dancing with old friends among the vineyards and palm trees.