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Well, it took two years before I really started to miss California.

The offending trip home came at the end of a very long winter, or rather a normal New York winter. I love the cold, but five months without the warm sun was really starting to bum me out.

Cheap airfare and weeks of intensely missing family and friends propelled me back to California for the last week of March. I packed in as much as I could, and it ended up being a tour of Greatest Hits: wine tasting in Sonoma, dinner with Green Valley friends, home-cooked meals, relaxing by the pool in the desert, L.A. friends, family, beach, Peet’s coffee, mani/pedi, sunshine.

It was hard to leave.

When I touched down after a bumpy ride to JFK, I waited 45min in the rain for a cab home — a reckless ride in the torrent that cost me $55. I dragged my suitcase up three flights of creaky, narrow stairs, and tossed it onto the sliver of remaining floorspace in my room.

And then, the unthinkable: What am I doing in New York?

Everyone I love is in California. I miss being there for special occasions, and forgettable ones. I miss the warm sun on my skin year round. I miss the beach. I miss the laid-back California attitude. I miss healthy food, and Mexican food, and convenience. I don’t miss driving.

My first week back after that trip was rough. I threw myself head-first into small things that make me feel safe and at home in New York: meals and drinks out with my co-workers, my gym routine, coffee at my kitchen table, my job. It definitely helped, but I still found myself thinking about California.

Was it finally time to move back?

Then today the sun came out. I’ve spent the last 45 minutes at a cafe near my apartment, sipping my first iced chai of the year. The room is dotted with flickering tea lights and pockets of chatter. I’m looking out onto the street, where packs of winter-worn Brooklynites are dining and strolling outside, enjoying our first warm Sunday. Friends are embracing and kiss-kissing on the sidewalks.

It’s nearly 8pm and the last bits of sunlight aren’t done boasting. The twilight blue meets the tops of the brownstones across the street, and the trees that have been barren since October are starting to reach out in every direction with buds and specks of blooms.

I have to remember that this is my time to thrive in New York, because once I leave I’ll probably never move back. California and all its warmth will wait for me. When I finally get there, will I be homesick for New York?

No one is sad to see 2008 go. It was a year of recession, when many people lost their homes, jobs and life savings. It was a year of more hurricanes, earthquakes and fires, and the Mumbai terrorist attacks. It was the year my nana spent nearly all 12 months under intense medical care. It was the year of breakups and moves.

But with all the tumult came some bright spots. We elected a new president for the first time in eight years. We witnessed a spectacular Olympic Games.

It was the year I visited New Orleans, Denver/Boulder, Chicago, Providence, Boston, D.C. (three times), Portland and California (twice). It was the year I saw Cal football at Maryland, UCLA hoops (twice), the NYC marathon, the U.S. Open, the Nationals, the Phillies, the Mets, the Cubs and Nascar at Pocono … Patrick Stewart in “Macbeth,” “Hairspray” and “In the Heights.” It was the year I was a guest at the White House.

It was the year I reconnected with old friends and spent precious time with family. It was the year of a new apartment and a fresh start.

While I can’t wait to see what 2009 has to offer, I don’t want to forget all the blessings of ’08. Cheers to the year past and future.

In New York, the sun doesn’t set behind the ocean. It sets behind a skyline.