Dreaming of the West Coast

Gianna Fine
2 min readSep 1, 2022
Photo by Earthly Beauties on Unsplash

Growing up on the east coast has been quite an experience. Funny enough, I have traveled to so many places: Sicily, Australia, Hawai’i, Belize — but never did I step foot in the western part of the United States unless my layover was in Los Angeles.

It was always New York or LA/San Diego for me. I was born in New York, visited often and loved the city. However, I grew up on the southern coast, where I worked on beaches or at surf shops, being a little sunburnt dune rat with my buddies. The west coast always (and still) seduced me with the impeccable whether, apparent great waves, and good times.

Here I sit, half a year (holy fuck I just realized I’ve been here that long) into living in New York. I reside in Queens, but its still the city life I wasn’t used to. I see Freedom Tower every day on my drive to work in Williamsburg. I find my peace sitting at Domino Park, watching the waves of the East River lap on the rocks with the city sitting on the otherside, watching me back. The nostalgia I get from growing up at the beach lingers every day. I miss it.

California has infiltrated my thoughts daily, too. I recently had a dream in where something told me to go to California. The last time I had a dream like that was over a year ago in April of 2021, where I had a dream where I was advised to move to New York in a year.

I did that.

I wonder what this dream’s manifestation entails.

I’ve already looked at tickets for late winter so I could have time to save some money while simultaneously not piss my job off with yet another day or two off. Time to look at AirBNBs while I’m at it.

Gianna Fine

thoughts, poetry, + surf

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