I am a second generation native to Arizona. My mother was born and raised here, lived here her whole life and then raised her family here as well. The desert is all I have known for thirty years and it has been a love/hate relationship. I hear of snow at Christmas time and I long for it. I have experienced the view of the coast and I belong there. I have seen the green of the Pacific North West and I dream about it. I am a creative who is fueled by my physical surroundings and when I find them inspiring, I feel fulfilled. I feel renewed.

I spent my twenties wanting to leave it behind. Escape the dry desert and pick up some place new. However, my thirties seem to bringing a fresh new perspective. One of gratitude for roots and comfort in nostalgia.

There is a street that I learned to ride my bike on. There is hospital where I brought all four of my children into this world. There is a school where I made friends that I am still connected to today. There is a park with a tree that was planted in my father’s honor when he passed. My grandparent’s backyard where I said “I do” to the love of my life.

Perhaps it comes with old age or perhaps, in growing two businesses here and raising kids, I just know that moving is not in the cards anymore. I don’t know the answer exactly, but I do know that I have grown roots here. Deep roots. I have grown up here. My children have grown up here. We have grown as a family here. So instead of fighting it, instead of thinking about someone else’s greener grass – both figuratively and literally – I’m watering my own. And enjoying the view.