Eleven months after moving away, my husband and I visited Massachusetts for seventeen days. We saw many friends, ate at many restaurants, perused many museums, and heard many concerts. I expected the visit to be emotional, but for the most part it seemed familiar and comfortable, perhaps due to our returning during the same season from which we left, or to how much longer we lived there than anywhere else.

There were some moments of, Which coast am I on? I was initially startled to encounter fresh ice cream from Maine in Lenox, thinking, What a long supply chain. I also kept being surprised by the timing of On Point, Here and Now, and Fresh Air, all of which air at different times on KAZU.

We drove from Somerville to Lee in a thunderstorm which was both a dangerous deluge and a joy, since there hasn’t been one in our new location. We admired huge puffy clouds, clouds as big as the amazingly green hills below them, in Vermont and the Berkshires. On a couple of short hikes in the woods, we were surprised by the coolness and humidity inland.

View from Hildene, Manchester, Vermont.

October Mountain vista point.

Tanglewood was the only stop that invoked intense nostalgia for me. It’s simply a place I love, that I connect to on a visceral level. I’ve felt that way about a lot of people, but only about one other place, my old bedroom in Brookline, which gave me a surge of joy each time I entered. Perhaps I should reconsider feng shui.

Back on the left coast, we enjoyed driving home from the airport along the ocean. In California, we have not only mild winters but also greener thumbs. We harvested a lot of tomatoes on our first day back, and the vines are still rife with ripening fruit.