Whatever Held

My parents lived across the street from each other in San Jose.
That’s how they met. Two families, both of whom had come to California from somewhere else, both of whom ended up on the same street as neighbors, and their kids found each other, and here I am. If either family had chosen a different city, a different state, a different street, I don’t exist. That’s not a metaphor. That’s the actuality of my life. I was born here. I was raised here. And I live now on the same street where I was born, where two of my three children were also born. Three generations of us have begun on the ground I’m standing on

I’ve noticed that people love to talk about California like it’s a problem to be solved. The cost. The politics. The whole state offered up as a punchline, something you’re supposed to be embarrassed about or ready to leave. I hear it constantly. I understand the arguments. I do. It’s expensive here, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise. I’ve lived that reality a long while now.

But here’s the thing. They’re describing a market. I’m describing a home. Those are not the same conversation, and I’ve stopped trying to have theirs. Because this is what California is to me. It’s the Pacific Ocean. That’s the one that goes straight to my body. I get near the water and something in my chest settles. The ocean says home to me in a way I can’t explain and don’t need to. It’s the people. All of them, from everywhere. My friends are of every background and ethnicity you can name. So are my kids’ friends. They grew up in a place where that wasn’t remarkable, where it was just Tuesday, where the whole world lived down the street from them. That’s not a statistic to me. That’s my dinner table. That’s who came
to the door on Halloween. That’s who was on my soccer team, at my prom, and at my wedding.

And it’s people helping people. Different backgrounds, one community, showing up for each other. That’s the Bay Area I know, and I treasure it.
What I feel here is calm. What I feel here is safe. I have not had many safe places in my life. Not many rooms where I could stop bracing. But this ground, this state, this Silicon Valley, this street has never once turned on me. It stayed when almost nothing else did. That’s what I can’t get across to the people who want to argue about California with me.

I have lost a mother. I have lost family and friends. I have lost my health, several times. People I counted on left, and institutions I trusted failed me, and I have had to rebuild my whole life more than once with no one holding the ladder. And through all of it, the street was still the street. The ocean was still there. This place did not leave.

I’m not defending California. I don’t need to. My parents met across a street here. My children were born here. I couldn’t be from anywhere else, and I have never once wanted to be. It’s home. No argument.