Eleven Years

August 16^th has always had a special place in my heart. It ranks up there with other extraordinarily special days in my life, such as November 17 and January 30.

As I wrote last year, I left home—for good—on August 16, 2000. I didn’t even return “home” during summers—I loved Southern California. It’s a lot more fun to work in a restaurant in Old Town Pasadena with a bunch of starving actors or GET PAID to do research through my college than it is to work in a crappy drug store. The point is, every year on this day, I like to reflect on leaving home and creating homes elsewhere.

Growing up, I lived in the exact same house in the exact same neighborhood my whole life. While this provided great stability, by August 16th I WAS TOTALLY READY to see what lay beyond Washington State lines.

In 11 years, I've lived in L.A. for 4 years, Central Virginia for 1 year, Northern Virginia for 1.5 years(ish), DC for almost 3 years, Bethesda for 6 months, and, finally, farm-country Maryland.  FOREVER.

We’re very lucky we’ve landed in what we hope is our “forever house” at this somewhat early stage of our married life. But as I listed where I’ve lived, I was surprised that I’ve lived on the East Coast longer than I lived in L.A. Yikes!

So, in honor of my Leaving Home 11^th Anniversary, I present a list of what I miss from each location. And what I don’t miss.

Seattle/Issaquah, Washington

I miss:

• Family nearby.
• Summers you actually ENJOY, not just try to SURVIVE.
• A region-wide disdain for the Pittsburgh Steelers.
• General friendliness.
• Festivals celebrating fish returning up creeks and rivers to spawn and die.
• Come to think of it, decent fish, period.
• Real lakes. I’m sorry, Virginia/Maryland, but that bug infested, man-made pond is NOT a lake. Don’t call it one.

I don’t miss:

• Constant, CONSTANT rain. Or drizzle. Or wet pavement in general.
• The slow pace that people walk. Drives me batty when I visit.
• The appropriateness of wearing fleece at the symphony or a nice restaurant.

Los Angeles, California

I miss:

• In-n-Out. Mmmmmmmmm.
• Good Chinese food. And Mexican food. And Thai food. FOR CHEAP.
• Sun shining in winter.
• The smell. Southern California has a distinct smell that I can’t describe but I instantly know it when I get a good waft of it. I love it.
• BEACH. With waves and everything.
• The aesthetic. The L.A. area has a very familiar artsy, old-time almost Raymond Chandler-esque aesthetic unlike anywhere else in the country. Even if you hate Hollywood, you just can’t deny that hint of glamour that pops up unexpectedly.
• Palm trees.
• DRY heat.
• The grounds of my beloved college.
• Things I don’t miss:

• People can be reaaaally fake. In every possible way.
• Often, there’s a sense of “struggle” there, which can be tiring. Folks struggling to make it as actors, as immigrants, as writers, as whatever. And the distinction between the Haves and the Have Nots is very stark. In my opinion.
• The price of gas.

Charlottesville, Virginia

I miss:

• Oodles of rustic wineries within about 5 minutes.
• A student discount on groceries at Harris Teeter.
• Sense of history that pervades everything, down to the stupid colonial columns on the local McDonalds.
• Charlottesville is a tug-of-war between Southern Gentility, hillbilly, frat party, and wine-and-cheese academic that is utterly bizarre and rather endearing.
• Monticello. I LOVE Monticello.

I don’t miss:

• The strip malls and traffic lights.
• To me, recently arrived from the West Coast, UVa was a very hilly campus in a very humid climate. A lethal combination.
• My apartment. Ick.

Alexandria, Virginia

I miss:

• Proximity to my favorite running trail.
• Proximity to the Pentagon and lots of handsome uniformed military-types who WILL ACTUALLY HOLD THE DOOR OPEN FOR YOU. Because their mamas raised ‘em right.
• And I guess that’s it for Northern Virginia. Huh.

I don’t miss:

• A perpetual traffic jam everywhere you go—side streets, freeways, everywhere.
• The Beltway. Nuff said.

Bethesda, Maryland

Can we skip this one? Sure, our CRAPPY, FREEZING Bethesda apartment will always be our Charlotte Bethlehem—her first home, our first months as parents, the site of the greatest sleep deprivation I have ever known. But there’s really nothing remarkable about Bethesda. It’s DC’s Bellevue, for those Seattle readers out there. Nice, overpriced, and not as cool as the city it butts up against.

Current Home, Maryland
I hope to live here for many, many years. I love our small town, our neighborhood, the sweet little church that welcomed us with wide open arms. I love that 3 neighborhood  babies (one of whom was Charlotte) were born within 3 months of each other and are already growing up together. I love sidewalks. And the muffled sound of the high school football stadium announcer drifting to our backyard. And our cute town is nestled in some of the prettiest countryside the East Coast has to offer.

Eleven years ago, I never could have predicted that I’d end up in a small Maryland town. Never.  I still feel like I’m a West Coaster at heart. I adore Washington and all of California—even San Joaquin Valley! Love it.

But the past year and a half being a real house (most of which we designed ourselves) in a real neighborhood with a nearby church, Charlotte’s future schools, and some sort of birthday party or block party or whatever almost every weekend has made me feel much more rooted. I so look forward to Charlotte getting to experience the same wanderlust I did—leaving the nest, finding want she wants to do and be. In the meantime, I want those Hofmann roots to burrow down further and further.

Still, it’s not easy to leave home. It’s even harder not to return. Deep down, I thought I’d eventually return to Seattle. But you might recall, we decided to start a family very soon after the economy tanked. We had two jobs between the two of us, and Chris’s was particularly secure. It’s easy to say Chris could just get a job a Microsoft (we heard this argument more than once), but not only does this scenario leave me utterly unemployed (which seemed to bother only me, Chris, and—weirdly enough—MY DAD), but such a job is not guaranteed, they’re not protected from layoffs (and did I mention I would be unemployed?), and then what? We’d have a baby. You can’t play loosey goosey with your financial future like that. Not with a baby.

Eleven years. And now? Well, it would appear that MARYLAND is home.