Hey Cali – You’re stuck with me now!
By Michelle Fitzhugh-Craig (she/her), shades Magazine
Earlier this month, I celebrated a milestone event.
For me, at least.
It was 21 years ago – on Aug. 11, to be exact – I took a giant leap of Faith.
My friend Sharon and I loaded a lot of what I owned (that wasn’t in storage) into my Grand Caravan and headed West. We began our trek shortly after midnight, driving through the early morn and most of the next day to what would become my new home – the San Francisco Bay Area.
I was not new to this part of the country, as my uncle lived here for many years during the 1970s and ‘80s and we would visit him when I was younger. California was no stranger either with Arizona being its neighbor from the northeast. But this time was different.
We, and by that, I mean I, arrived sans any type of employement; no place to live; and – not counting the unemployment check that would be direct deposited into my soon-to-be closed checking account three days after my arrival – without any money.
My four children remained in Phoenix with their father (my recently divorced husband) and the unconditional support and active involvement of my parents. There was no “bad blood” between the man I’d known for almost a quarter of a century so the decision to make such a big move felt right. But to be honest, what I didn’t share to anyone for many years was that I had no choice but to leave. I knew the Bay was where I belonged for several reasons, but there was more.
Long story short, he remained in what had been our home. And I could not … correction … I would not live on my own without my four hearts with me. Period.
But I digress (you’ll get used to that).
During the last 21 years, I’ve had many ups, downs, joys and challenges. Fun, pain … both great and not-so-great times. And I’ve been Blessed to experience so much more. However, that’s not why I decided to write this column.
This past May, I stood in line at the California DMV, dreading the moment I had anticipated may happen for two decades. It was time to get a new license.
Many people aren’t as anxious about this moment, unless it is their first time. And for me it was, of sorts: My first California license (with a bonus first Real ID) and the first time I had to take a written (now digital) driver’s test in decades. You see, in Arizona, a standard license does not “expire” until you turn 65, although you are required to update your license photo every 12 years. So I’d totally spaced on when I’d last obtained a new license … and apparently how old I was about to turn.
By the time I realized what this milestone birthday meant, it was too late. I panicked. I’d sworn I would always hold on to my Arizona license because of its significance.
Yes, you read correctly. All this time, living in California, I still used my Arizona license … for everything.
Many people asked why and were surprised when they would learn of my minor obsession with never switching. But I had my reasons.
It was more than a license to me. It represented home. It represented my home.
It signified more than 40 years of growing up, of friendships, of memories. Both good and bad. It represented me becoming a woman … a mother. And in my mind, not having this physical, legal document of my life in The Grand Canyon State meant that I could no longer call Arizona home.
After the panic subsided, the fear climbed back into the box and I wiped away the lone tear. I realized that the Valley of the Sun would always be home. But more importantly, so now was The Golden State … too.
My heart finally listened to my head:
“You can have more than two homes, Michelle. Just like you can have more than one best friend or one soulmate or one true love. You can have more than a single hope or dream, or passion in life. It’s about understanding that most things you experience in life can carry the same label yet can have different levels of importance; have their own idiosyncrasies that make them unique, special and worth waking up each morning to (and for).”
So, with this new (to me) knowledge, I’ve been able to move forward with less fear, more confidence and an abundance of excitement for what my “new” home has in store for me.
It’s no longer one or the other because home is where the heart is.
I now know I have enough heart for both.
Michelle Fitzhugh-Craig (she/her) is the Founder and Publisher of shades Magazine — Celebrating All Women of Color, Senior Editor/Writing Coach with Contra Costa Youth Journalism and Owner of MFC3 Media. She has been an editor, reporter/writer, author and storyteller for more than 25 years. The award-winning journalist also is an experienced university-level instructor and an elementary school literacy TSA.
Originally published on Substack.