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| I moved back to my hometown after living in dozens of cities around the world. KevinKim/Shutterstock |
For most of my life, I was always packing up and starting over, never staying in one place long enough to truly plant roots. By the time I graduated from high school, I had already lived in multiple countries, attended five different elementary schools, and adapted to a dizzying variety of cultural norms. My family’s story was not one of military postings or corporate relocations — it was the tale of Chinese immigrants searching for opportunity, chasing academic and professional possibilities wherever they could be found.
Each move brought a different climate, culture, and community. Some of these cities became cherished chapters of my life, while others were short, challenging interludes. But together, they shaped my resilience and taught me how to start fresh over and over again. And, perhaps surprisingly, after decades of searching for that “perfect” place, I ended up right where my teenage years began — the coastal Southern California city I had once left behind.
A Childhood of Constant Change
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| We moved to San Juan when I was 5. Christine Ma-Kellams |
I was born in Nanjing, China, a city of rich history and changing seasons, and lived there until I was five years old. Our first move came when my father was accepted into a Ph.D. program in San Juan, Puerto Rico — a place he initially thought was an American state. The change could not have been more dramatic. The crisp winters of eastern China gave way to turquoise Caribbean waters, sunny skies, and the creamy sweetness of flan. But as much as I loved the beaches, kindergarten was a struggle. I spoke neither Spanish nor English, leaving me silent and withdrawn for much of the school day.
After a year, my father’s academic journey led us to Ames, Iowa, where he began a postdoctoral fellowship. The move from a Catholic school in Puerto Rico to a small Midwestern public school surrounded by endless cornfields was jarring. Being the only Asian child in the entire school meant my classmates stumbled over my name and asked curious, sometimes awkward questions about my hair, my food, and my family. But despite the cultural gap, Iowans were unfailingly kind, and for the first time, I began to form real friendships. When my father’s fellowship ended after nearly two years, leaving meant more than just moving — it meant losing my very first American friend.
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| Overall, I enjoyed living in Iowa as a kid. Christine Ma-Kellams |
Our next stop was College Station, Texas, where my father secured another postdoctoral position at Texas A&M University. For the first time in the United States, my parents could afford to buy a home — a modest duplex with a gooseberry tree in the yard. It should have felt like stability, but once again, I was the only Asian student in my school, a reminder that belonging was still out of reach. And once again, when my father’s position wasn’t renewed, we packed our lives into boxes and set out for the next chapter.
Finding a True Sense of Belonging in Southern California
Our move to Torrance, California, would prove to be life-changing. Nestled along the Pacific coast, Torrance offered everything I had longed for: diversity, community, and the vibrant mix of cultures that made me feel at home for the first time since leaving China. It was a revelation to walk into a high school where both the homecoming queen and the football captain were Asian, where my friends came from a dozen different cultural backgrounds, and where I no longer had to brace myself for questions about my heritage.
Life here was rich with simple pleasures: afternoons spent at the beach, boba tea runs with friends, and late-night study sessions for AP classes. I had a church community, close friendships, and the rare gift of staying in one place for years. Torrance became the anchor of my adolescence — a place that showed me what belonging truly felt like.
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| I had my first child while living in Santa Barbara. Christine Ma-Kellams |
College took me north to the Bay Area, where I attended UC Berkeley, and later to UC Santa Barbara for graduate school. The Central Coast brought new experiences, including meeting the man who would become my husband and welcoming our first child. Yet, despite the milestones, none of these places fully captured the sense of home I had felt in Torrance.
A Life of Moves — and a Turning Point in Massachusetts
Over the years, work and academic opportunities pulled us to different corners of California, and eventually across the country. After a brief return to Southern California to live with my parents in Rancho Palos Verdes, I accepted a postdoctoral fellowship at Harvard, and our family relocated to Cambridge, Massachusetts.
Cambridge had its charms — the intellectual buzz of Harvard Square, easy access to Boston, and the convenience of public transit. But the bitter New England winters wore on us. The beauty of autumn leaves and fresh snowfall couldn’t outweigh the long months of icy sidewalks and gray skies. After three years, we were ready to return to the West Coast once more.
Returning to My Roots — and Staying for Good
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| I'm glad I moved back to Torrance. Albert Campbell/Shutterstock |
By 2020, after years of moving between California cities, the restlessness had faded. The COVID-19 pandemic was in full swing, and like many families, we reevaluated our priorities. We wanted a permanent home in a community that felt safe, welcoming, and rich in opportunity for our children. The answer came quickly: Torrance.
We moved back into my childhood home, just blocks from the beaches I once biked to as a teenager. My children now attend the same schools I did — in some cases, even learning from the same teachers who taught me. I reconnected with old friends, shared laughs with former classmates, and marveled at how the city had changed while still retaining the charm I remembered.
The move was more than just a return; it was a full-circle moment. Having lived in a dozen cities worldwide, I could now see Torrance through a lens of appreciation I never would have had if I had stayed here all along. The diversity, the ocean breeze, the wealth of food options, the outstanding schools — they are no longer things I take for granted, but treasures that I chose, with intention, to make the center of my life.
The Beauty of Coming Home After a Life of Moving
Settling down after decades of moving has given me a deep understanding of what “home” really means. For me, it’s not just about where I grew up — it’s about where I feel grounded, where my family can thrive, and where community feels as natural as breathing. Torrance will always be that place now, not because I never left, but because I did.
Living in so many different places gave me the ability to adapt to any environment, but it also gave me the clarity to recognize when I’d finally found the one I didn’t want to leave. And after a lifetime of moving boxes, new schools, and cultural adjustments, I can say with certainty: this time, I’m staying.
