A Place That Held a Season

San Clemente, a year later

There’s something sacred about returning to a place that was once your entire world, even if only for a season.

For me, that place was San Clemente. It was only home for a year, but in so many ways, it held me through a time when I didn’t even realize I needed holding. I went back this week, and it felt like I was giving a hug to a past version of myself. The girl who was just trying to breathe. The girl who didn’t really know anyone, but knew that town like a friend.

It’s wild how just a year has passed, but I feel like a completely different person. More grounded. More aware. More sure of herself. Like I’ve earned a little wisdom in the in-between.

When I first moved to Southern California, I was a deer in headlights. I had no idea who I was in that landscape, no idea how to move through it. But maybe it wasn’t a goodbye after all, maybe it was just a see you later. I’m still figuring that part out. And maybe returning now, at a completely different stage of myself, was part of the process.

I miss the sun.
I miss the energy.
I miss the ocean.
I miss the creativity.
I miss the people.

But I don’t miss her, the version of me who lived there. She was fighting for air. Quietly, consistently. She smiled a lot, but held her breath just as much. She was doing her best, and honestly, I’m proud of her. Because she made it out. She held on long enough for me to become who I am now.

Sometimes we don’t realize how far we’ve come until we revisit the places we started.
And when we do, it hits us in small, unexpected ways. In the way we carry ourselves. In the calm where there used to be chaos. In how the things that once felt heavy now feel light.

I’m not who I was then, and I’m thankful for that.
And I’m thankful for San Clemente — for the sun, the sea, and the season I called it home.
And maybe, in some small way, it still is.

Some places never really let go, and maybe that’s the beauty of it,

E