Why I’m Leaving California for Missouri

July 31, 2017

Dear California,

My bags are packed and I’m leaving in the morning to move back to Missouri. Yes, really. Missouri.

I know we’ve had a long relationship — 17 years, my entire adult life, and it’s been good. So, I wanted to offer you an explanation and a little appreciation.

See, I grew up in small town Missouri. I went to college in St. Louis. If you’d asked me when I was in high school, I would have told you that I’d move away for 10 years and then come back home. And, yes, after I’d been gone 10 years, I wanted to move home with a vengeance. That also happened to be when we had our child. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.

Over the last four years, my visits home with my son started getting longer and longer, from 10 days up to six weeks last summer. It became harder and harder to come back to you. Last August, after returning, I was depressed for two weeks, and struggled for much longer. And I was cold! SOOOOO COLD! I had to buy a space heater for my room, and it was August! I could no longer ignore the call to go home.

I had to honestly own what I was feeling — a part of me hated you — the pace, the pressure, the expense, the transient nature. You had worn me out. You’re just too popular. I can’t keep up and I can’t compete with all you have going on for people to do. I made friends for a year or two, and then they would move on — to a cheaper home, or a different job, or a new activity, or… And if they did stay in the area, then traffic. I don’t need to say anymore about that, do I?

Naturally, I look at my part in this. Were my expectations too high? Maybe. Maybe not. I want friends for years. I want to see a small number of people frequently. I want relationships that feel like a favorite sweater — warm and comfortable. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.

Yes, I know. That’s hard to find anywhere, and harder, I think, in the Bay Area. People are busy everywhere, but you have to admit it, you are expensive. People have to work hard and make a lot of money just to live here. Many have long commutes. That’s a lot of pressure. I got caught up in your busy vibe for a while. I did manage to slow down, and then I found that there weren’t many people around. Playdates or dates with friends often have to be made several weeks in advance. That kind of pressure cooker is a challenging place to build and sustain relationships. Work hard. Play hard. Don’t slow down. That’s just not my style.

So, one reason I want to move to Missouri is that it is cheaper to live there, and I think it will be easier to develop and enjoy friendships that are meaningful. Of course, this may be countered by the clannishness in St. Louis that arises from people having always been in the same place. We’ll see. I’ll let you know how it goes. Either way, several of my best friends in the world already live in St. Louis, and I know I’ll be able to enjoy time with them.

And speaking of Missouri, the biggest thing that draws there, as opposed to Oregon, is family.

First, my dad is the best grandpa possible for our son. You know Oliver. He likes to figure out how things work and likes to make things. My dad can renovate a house from roof to basement, make art from fibers or glass, create a garden oasis, grow heirloom tomatoes that any foodie would lust for, repair an engine, and design and build a treehouse that is the envy of everyone. He loves Oliver as much as Mark and me, and wants to spend more time with him that any other person we know. He can teach Oliver things that we can’t. Oliver will learn more from him more easily than he likely will from anyone else. If Oliver can dream it, he and Papa can make it. (Did I mention that the tree house at Papa’s now has three stories? It would rent for serious money in SF.) What they have is special. Plus, Oliver is six and Dad is 65. In ten years, it won’t be as easy or important for either of them. Their time is now.

Second, my extended family is all in mid-Missouri. While I love my family, and they love me, I haven’t always felt like I belonged. I always felt different, and that the approval I always desired was absent. Whether this was real or not doesn’t matter so much. I’ve been able to work on my need for approval, and have found a peace within myself. This last summer home I was able to relax around my family. I look forward to getting to know them without feeling a need to prove myself. I have to give you some credit here, California. I’ve received a lot of support from you. Thank you.

Third, my step-family is all in Missouri. I honestly never thought I would say this, but I actually want to spend time with my step-siblings. We were all in our 20s, and off on our own, when our parents married. It’s probably safe to say that none of us were very thrilled about it. Over the years, though, it became apparent that our families were stuck together. Then, we all had kids, and it’s obvious that our children all love each other. Kids build bridges. For all of our kids, there is no “step” there is just “family” because for their entire lives they’ve known Granny and Papa Dave as Granny and Papa Dave. All of our kids are cousins — a group of children of mixed gender and ages that run wild at grandpa’s house together. I had that when I was little, and I want this for Oliver, too. Given that Mark and I are only children, this is the only way that can happen. Thank you, Granny.

All of this said about family, we will be two hours away from the family hub, and that’s probably a good thing. =)

Now, here’s something a little trickier. I’ve been meaning to bring this up for awhile. California, you’ve got this whole urban progressive bubble thing going on. I grew up on the liberal side of things in a conservative community. From this experience, I gained a strength, openness and curiosity from being around people of differing political beliefs. I learned that across the political spectrum there are good people working hard. I want that for Ollie. I want to be outside this bubble, so that I can hear what it’s like for people with different lives, experiences and beliefs.

I want to hear what it’s like for them, and why they feel the way they do. I want to have hard conversations about important things — politics, racism, privilege, and religion. Plus, as a cis-gender, straight, white, middle class woman, it’s much safer for me to go back to the mid-west, than for many people I love. I hope that I can listen, be of service and build bridges so that more people get to appreciate folks who are different that they are. This will stretch me, and it’s too important not to do. I can stretch this way now because of the many teachers I’ve found in California. Again, thank you.

Finally, when I step out of the plane, and am in Missouri air, no matter what the season, my body exhales and releases a tension that I forgot I was carrying. The bottom line is that I am desperate for Missouri dirt, air and water. I feel better there. Please don’t take that personally. Missouri is the land that made my bones, and my bones like it better there.

The view out my Grandma’s kitchen window still moves my heart more that any other place I’ve ever been. I love the rolling hills, and the big rivers. I love the green lushness of summer, the crispness and vibrant color of fall, the starkness of winter, and the freshness of spring. There’s something about seasons that creates an incentive to relish the days because you know that it will change soon. It makes each shift more precious. I love the summer heat and humidity, and the thunderstorms and unapologetically grand sunsets that go with it. I love the weather, and that it changes so often. I love that you have to pay attention to what the weather is going to do, and plan around it. Honestly, I find your weather just a bit boring.

That pretty much covers why I’m leaving. I hope you understand. I will be back to visit, I promise.

Thank you so much for all the grand adventures. Burning Man was fun. Yes, I know that’s in Nevada, but I wouldn’t have gone if it hadn’t been for you prompting me. Thank you for all the ways you’ve helped me face my fears living in your cities. I think I’m ready for St. Louis now. Thank you for all the dancing, and all my dancing women friends. Thank you for the good work you gave me. I love the redwoods. Thank you for all the passionate, inspiring and loving friends I’ve had the honor of know over the years. Most of all, thank you for my husband and my son. They are amazing people, and I’m lucky they are my family. My husband, one of your natives, will miss you terribly. I promise to take good care of him, and send him back to visit, too. We are keeping that house, just in case we need to come back. That would be ok, right?

Much love,

Velma