Home: Encinitas

I often dream of Encinitas, California.

I grew up there in that sleepy beach town 30 minutes north of the airport. 

Elementary school, junior high, and high school. All of my childhood, within minutes of a beach.

We had a pool in my backyard so I learned to swim when I was young which meant more trips to the beach and lots of time in our pool.

I learned to surf when I was 12. I haven't done it since. I can barely boogie board. I prefer to float in the pool.

I moved away to attend college and I haven't been able to find my way back on a more permanent basis. Every time I fly into Lindbergh Field I think, This time. This time I'm finding a job and I will stay. But a few days later, I'm back on a plane, returning to where I live for the rest of the year. I hate saying goodbye, so as I look out the window I usually say, Some day. Some day, I'll be back.

Maybe it's the need to relive those moments, retrace my steps and start over again that draws me back. Figure out where I went wrong and how I can get back on track—wherever that track plans to take me. 

Or maybe the 92024 zip code really is the place of dreams.