The Grass is always greener...

Especially when you live in Arizona. And no, I'm not aiming for a political metaphor. With few exceptions, you don't find too much grass in Southern Arizona. No sounds of mowers humming or smell of freshly cut grass on a Saturday morning. No lush green manicured lawns to envy. No sprawling out flat on your back in the park and making animals out of clouds on a spring day. In fact we have no spring. Don't really have seasons. We have Summer, which is hot. We have winter, which is not as hot. We have the rainy season, which means a 10% chance of rain on any given day rather than 0%. Umbrellas aren't a common household item by the front door.

Sure it's pretty in its own way day here. Some people find the desert beautiful. I'm just not one of them. I'll admit I was lured by the swaying palms and crystal blue pools surrounded by a manicured lawn...at the hotel we stayed at that first time. I said "I can live like this." No Tornados. No Earthquakes. No frigid snowy winters.

So as I sit here gazing out the window at the beautiful rocky mountain cliffs and blue blue sky, with my crystal blue pool surrounded by rock and flowers that bloom all year in the backyard, I wonder why I just want to get the hell out of here.

Because this isn't my lifestyle. I had a green grass moment and seized it! Truth is, I'm an East Coast girl. I was stuck in the Midwest. I was lured by the magic of the moment. But after 10 years, I need water, real water. Salt water preferably. I need the sound of the surf and waves lapping at the shore. I need the green grass and leafy trees that turn brilliant colors in the fall. And I need spring. I need the flowers bursting with color after laying dormant all winter. I  need that horrible low tide smell that makes me crinkle my nose. And cuddling up in front of the fire during those long winter nights.

I'm just back from a conference in Boca Raton. Usually I spend most of the time just waiting till I can get back home. I'm not big on conferences. They are important in my work, and I appreciate when it's productive and we can say it was worthwhile. But going home is always a treat. This time was different. All my life I've tried unsuccessfully to plan a perfect vacation moment. I've traveled from one coast to another, across the Atlantic. South America. The Bahamas. Always trying to achieve that one perfect snapshot from the Travel Channel. And quite by accident, there I was. In the middle of a business conference. Standing on the shores of the Atlantic, cotton skirt, bare feet, early evening with the light fading, the ocean lapping at the shore. Wishing I could be standing there every night, with my husband and kids. Or maybe just my husband. The girls can find their own beach.

And there it is. If I lived in Boca I'd hate it and wouldn't be standing on that perfect beach every night. The reality is I'd be just as unhappy in Boca as I am in Tucson. I need hustle and bustle and activity. People coming and going with purpose instead of leisure time all the time. Boca is a place to end your days, not live them. Much like Arizona. My perfect moment on the beach was actually just another proverbial greener grass moment. The kind that reminds you no matter where you are now, there always seems to be someplace better. The kind that requires a good smack upside the head to remind you it's just a moment. It'll pass.

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