I have lived in four cities, two states, and moved a total of five times. Tomorrow I will move for the sixth time to my fifth city and my third state. Moving has always been exciting for me. It allows a fresh start, a new adventure. But it also has a bittersweet taste to it as you leave behind the life that you built.

I remember my last major move, the summer before my freshman year of high school, from Santa Clara, California to Dallas, Texas. I had lived in the same town and with the same people for the past eight years of my life. I had lived in the San Francisco Bay Area for 11 years. Having grown up in that area, I had become jaded and found the day to day life there to be monotonous. I was excited for a change of scenery and pace that the move offered. I saw it as a new adventure and a way for me to move on from my past and rebuild a new life around myself.

Admittedly, the move and transition did not go as smoothly as I had expected, few things rarely do. I was very shy, so my first year in my new home was isolated. But, I found that as I put myself out there more and pushed myself out of my comfort zone, I met new people. The adventure that I initially had hoped for began to take shape. By removing myself from my self-inflicted isolation through trying new things, I could reinvent who I was and how others perceived me.

Although the new adventure and world is refreshing, it can become bittersweet when it is time to leave it. I had put so much time and energy into my life in Dallas. The idea of having to start all over again, as I had to four years before, was tiring. You place all of your effort into building this new world, new life, around you, only to leave it. In my case, I only had four years to build this new world. It seemed that once I had my new life solidified, I had to leave it to build another one. Despite the initial negatives of leaving, the bitterness is sweetened by what awaits you on the other end of the move, new possibilities.

However, both unfortunately and fortunately, you can never truly go back to your hometown once you have left it. Everything seems to have changed, subtly. Although, I have a hard time discerning if it is the observer's perspective that has changed or if it is what the observer is observing. When I visit Santa Clara I notice the changes in both the town and my friends. When I see a new building or notice changes in my childhood friends, I feel a small sadness. I miss my hometown, but I would not trade my new experiences for the world.

Now, as I did four years ago, I am moving in the shadow of an impending Presidential election and the Summer Olympics. This time however, I am not moving to Dallas, Texas for high school, but to Mobile, Alabama for college. Although I enjoyed my time in Dallas, I will admit that when I visit home or see something that reminds of home, I find that I am hit by odd waves of nostalgia. Occasionally I find myself staring out at the horizon on an overcast day, imagining that I am in Monterey and that just beyond my eyesight is the Pacific Ocean, rushing up to meet the shore.