reach out and grab hold of the sky

I'm going to miss California.
I'm going to miss the ocean and the palmtrees, the friends I've made and the shape of the air, the color of the sky.
I'm going to miss the ships in my harbor and the sunsets over the bridge.
I'm going to miss the godawful hot and the surprisingly, shockingly cold.
I'm going to miss the dry desert air and the crazy-insane winds.
I'm going to miss the way I feel when I'm here, when I'm looking at the shipyard and smiling and smiling and smiling, when I'm standing ankle-deep in the Pacific and watching the oil rigs out at sea, when I'm climbing strangely-shaped trees and seeing the land drop away below me, cliffs a straight fall to the pounding waves beneath.
I'm going to miss California, because I love it.
I rather don't want to leave but it's really too late to take it back,
and I don't think I'll become who I would want to be here.

But I'll have to come back. I will. Because in a great many ways, this is the home of my heart.