No place like home?

One day you'll look to see I've gone
For tomorrow may rain,
so I'll follow the sun

Some day you'll know I was the one
But tomorrow may rain,
so I'll follow the sun

        -- The Beatles

I’ve been looking at road signs all my life. A few are classics (Route 66 and California’s Highway 99, for example), but nothing resonates in me as the indicator, “West,” that often resides above the numeral.

After graduating from high school, I moved back and forth from California to points east (Colorado, Arizona, New Mexico and Michigan). I guess the notion of “going home again” made the sight of those designations seem to hold so much appeal.

I’m heading for Florida, which has always seemed to be south of Massachusetts. But it turns out that Miami is at about 80 degrees longitude while Boston is closer to 67. In other words, Florida is way farther west than New England.

And so, it can be said that I’ve already started back to California. I’ll be closer just about every week (except when I dip down into Florida in November) until I get home.

Speaking of “dipping,” I also noted with interest that the “South” back here in the eastern U.S. is a lot farther south than southern California. My southernmost destination (Sarasota, Florida) is more than 800 miles south of Merced (San Diego is less than 400).

I imagine most of the highways I’ll travel between now and then will be designated as “East.” But the trip from Connecticutt to Pennsylvania was definitely a journey west.

And that felt pretty good.

I’m not homesick, but it will be good to get back home.