This is where the boyfriend took me to lunch last weekend. Look familiar?

It took me a long, long time to feel at home in Los Angeles, and even when that happened, the “Well, back home...” digressions never really stopped. (Yeah, I’m one of those people.) So it really meant a lot to me when he woke me up last Sunday so that we could get on a train to Union Station, walk two miles through Downtown LA, pick up lunch at Grand Central Market (Sarita’s Pupuseria, anyone?), have a picnic on that bench overlooking the city, and take a subway back — because he knew I was homesick.

I could’ve gone on and on about the Grand Central and Saturday walks to Union Square Greenmarket and picnics in Sheep’s Meadow and how the buildings are prettier in the Flatiron, but for one of the first times in the last year, I didn’t feel compelled to compare any of it to its grander Manhattan counterpart. I tell everyone that moves here that it’s not like NYC — it’s not always love at first sight and it takes a while to really feel emotionally connected to this place — but sometimes, I guess, all it really takes is one great day to realize how lucky you are.

And that doesn’t just go for the city.