Finding your place is no easy task. It doesn’t happen suddenly. Instead it’s a process you’re hardly aware of until one day you know where you’re supposed to be.
I was 8 years old when my parents broke the news that we were moving from our California town of Lompoc to a place called Phoenix, Arizona. “It’s in the desert, but your grandmother is there,” my mother said while my father mentioned cheaper property taxes and land values. No concept of what a desert town looked like, I imagined it would be like the movie Aladdin—complete with roaming camels, tents and dust storms.