That’s what I saw this past weekend in sunny, southern California.  It really wasn’t until I got back to Philadelphia yesterday that I realized what I missed (and what I didn’t) about being back at home.    That’s because I couldn’t have even fathomed some of the differences  before I experienced living at the two extremes.

I grew up in Irvine, California.  It’s basically the center of Orange County and has consistently been ranked among the safest cities in America.  Over the last three and a half years at Drexel, people have been asking why I would ever leave the warm weather and the beaches.  My answer is that I could never have imagined what it would feel like to live in a place this cold.  I mean that literally.  When you never feel sub-fifty degree weather, you don’t think of what freezing is like or even that there are people who live in it.  It was definitely something I took for granted but never will again.

The beaches bring to mind other memories.   You would think that I would have loved having the beach there everyday.  The people there, though, served as a constant reminder of just how much skinnier everyone else was (aka the warped view of body image in Southern California that drove so many girls I knew to eating disorders and drug abuse).  In high school, I was 5’3″ and 125 pounds.  In Philly, that was small.  However, back at home, they called me “diesel chick” (haha).  That’s a nickname I definitely don’t miss, but I’m still so much more self-conscious every time I go back.

So, yes, in some ways I miss home, but I also love it out here on the east coast; both for separate reasons.  I know that I never could have recognized the obscure differences or realized how much they affected me if I hadn’t gotten to experience both.