The Mosaic of Our Lives

“A little bit of you, a little bit of me.” That’s what Anna and Elsa say in Frozen as they build Olaf for the first time as children.

Last week, I returned to Southern California for the first time in years. I spent over a decade there building the foundations of my adult life—finishing college, starting my career. Driving through those familiar streets, with traces of my work and play still lingering in the air, it felt as though part of me had never left.

Sitting on the sand overlooking Catalina Island off in the distance, I felt the crash of waves ahead and the salty air on my lips. But above all, it was the scent of the Pacific that swept me back in time.

During my last year in California, as I navigated the end of my ten-year marriage, I rented a studio bungalow just a few blocks from the ocean in Seal Beach. It was one of the best places I ever called home. Each evening after work, I’d walk to the shore, settle into the sand, and watch as the Seal Beach pier lit up while the sun sank below the horizon. The amber glow would fade, but the ocean remained—steady, healing. In the summer, my sisters visited, and we spent our evenings boogie boarding until the day dissolved into twilight.

Each place we inhabit leaves its mark, becoming a part of who we are.

This summer when we traveled abroad, my daughter described her origins as follows: “A little bit of Colorado, a little bit of Brazil, and a lot of Rockville, Maryland.” The fact that she included Colorado at all showed me she was beginning to adjust to our new home, though I know Rockville still feels most like hers.

Our personal mosaics—the places that shape us—make up who we are.

For me, it’s a blend of Colorado, California, New York City, and Washington, D.C., though I’m not exactly sure in what proportion. With over a decade spent on each coast and twenty years in between, each place I return to still holds a piece of home.

I’m grateful for my time on the West Coast, for the healing waters of the Pacific that helped me find the courage to start anew on the East Coast. That’s the beauty of adventure—it becomes a part of you, inseparable from who you are.

What does your mosaic look like?

I’d love to hear about it.

For the world needs who you were made to be.