My home state. I never feel more comfortable than when I am back in Northern California. Last time I was there I came down through Donner and I started to smell the sage through the car's vents, which lifted a burden from my existence. It may have been the fact that I had been driving for 15 hours and deep into sleep deprivation, but I felt a euphoric peace coming home. I love California.

That being said, I could never live there again because of economic and political considerations. It hurts me not being able to live where my home is, like missing a piece of myself. I miss looking in the distance and seeing topography. I desire the cool mornings and warm evenings. I ache for the smell of the ocean blowing up the valley when the wind turned just right.

Sometimes I walk into a house that is done in the California bungalow style, see a radio tower disguised as a tree, or meet a fellow Cali refugee and we trade stories of what we miss so dearly and the longing to be back home burns so deeply that it hurts.

I can't live where my heart is and I am incomplete in my existence because of it. Colorado and Utah were so close to scratching that itch, but I know that no place on this Earth will be close enough for me to feel as complete as I do when I am home west of the Sierras.