Home is where the heart is. This aphorism is attributed to Pliny the Elder, a Roman philosopher living in A.D. 23–79. He wrote “Ubi bene, Ibi patria” in Latin, which means “where you are well is your country.” This may be even more powerful given the fact that he died during the eruption of Mount Vesuvius as a naval commander, trying to rescue people from his beloved city of Pompeii.

I have had three places where I have been “well,” and therefore, those qualify as home for me. The first is my hometown of Bonham, Texas, where I grew up. The second is my true second home, Los Angeles, where I came with my husband and children when I was in my early 40s. The third is our orange grove in Ojai, where I currently live with my husband, my middle daughter, Liz, her husband, Ron, and their son, Ethan. These three places warm my heart more than any other location I have visited or experienced in my life. So, what are the qualities of these places that make them feel so deeply like home?

My hometown of 7,000 in North Central Texas was a sweet country town where I knew almost everyone. My maternal great-grandparents were one of the founding families of Fannin County, and my father had grown up with his nine siblings very near where I was born. The reasons my hometown captured my heart rested not only in its rural location but also in the era in which I grew up. I was a 1950s–early 60s kid and had the benefit of a rather idyllic time in our country, post–World War II, when everyone was glad to be back to a peaceful world and life was centered on home and family. This was before the turbulent times in the mid–to–late 1960s when rebellion became the watchword. For me, home in little Bonham, Texas, was centered on bike riding, tree climbing, Sunday church, and knowing literally everyone in my class from 1st grade through 12th. I didn’t necessarily want to live my adult life in that little place, but I’m grateful for the time I lived there. I felt safe, loved, and secure not just with my family but also with my friends and their families.

Los Angeles in the 1990s became our home when my husband, children, and I moved there during the AIDS epidemic to help my second brother, who would eventually die from AIDS. Though coming to California was punctuated with pain, it also offered much promise for our little family. Ray and I were ready for a more cosmopolitan experience, and LA provided art museums, the LA Phil, educational opportunities for our kids, and the chance to meet people from all over the world. Our whole family loved living in this new world, with the Pacific only twelve miles from our home. As someone who loves the ocean, it was easy to feel as if LA was where my heart was.

Ojai is one and one-half hours north of LA and is also twelve miles from the ocean. The difference is that twelve miles here means actually twelve minutes of driving. In LA, that was forty-five minutes on a good day when traffic wasn’t too bad. Ojai is in a valley surrounded by the Topa-Topa Mountains. It’s a lovely, artistic little town of 8,000, where people come seeking respite from the city’s congestion and traffic. I love living here because of the chance to be surrounded by orange trees in a place where the nights are silent except for crickets and coyote calls. This place is not far from my hometown roots, with the advantage of living in one of the prettiest spots near the California Central Coast.

So, for me, home is very much where the heart is. I have been exceedingly lucky to live in three places where my heart could naturally be filled to overflowing. I suspect Ojai will be my final destination, but who knows? I might stumble upon another spot that feels like home and be pulled to go there next on my happy life adventure.