On Wednesday night, I got together with Stacey and Corinne, two girls who are from here but just moved back from the east coast. We made a joke about starting a support group or club for ex-pats or transplants or whatever we are. To deal with the culture shock and adjustment.
The funny thing is, we are all in our 30s and we all live with our parents. Stacey was laughing that her boyfriend heard her say over the phone, “Mo-om, I’m on the phone!”
We started talking about sleepovers. Stacey said her mom doesn’t like when she comes home late (because it wakes her up), and says, would she please sleep at her boyfriend’s house? Corinne’s mom knocks on her bedroom door in the morning, hoping to find a man in there! Um, my mom would rather I be home and alone in my bed.
But anyway, in addition to everything we had in common (I just met them through a mutual friend), it was great being around people who knew people we know. You know? I always felt so rootless in New York. There was no family or history or network, at least in the beginning. But you come back, and so-and-so knows your second cousin. And you, too, happen to know someone from their mom’s side of the family. It’s very comforting.
When I was in NYC and had a SoCal friend visiting, someone called it “Cali Comfort.” I guess my new definition of Cali Comfort is, like, living with my parents in San Diego. 🙂