We arrived to the LA I wish for: temps in the low 70s, jacaranda trees in full bloom, a barely there hint of green on the Verdugos. It was sweater weather and color and that gorgeous Southern California light that turns gold against the mountains just before sunset. It was a week of family — just family — and it was exactly what we needed. Short trip = no jet lag, we came home last night to our normal bedtime and woke this morning to a gray day in New York, rested and not the least bit tired.
In just about eight weeks we’ll go back for the summer.
I have been thinking about all the ways I romanticize our time there, how I anticipate and hope and layer on so many emotions. When I’m not in California, I want to be in California. But when we landed last night at JFK, I had a clear feeling of being home. I’m not sure what our future holds, or how we’ll choose to live out the next chapter. There are times I think I could walk away from NY without ever looking back, and times when I can’t imagine how to make that happen.
I’m grateful for the California that waits for me, that gives me a safe and loving place to land. I can’t wait to go back in June, to settle in for just about two full months of California dreaming. Truthfully, so much of this back and forth, this bicoastal life we live, is more about who rather than where. Above all it’s about family. Wednesday afternoon we sat beneath the Sierra Madre mountains and watched my nephew play baseball. After the game we drove down to Pasadena to a place called Afters where the boys ate glazed donuts stuffed with ice cream (!!!). It was dark then, and we sat under the lights at picnic tables — my mom, my brother, my sister, my nephew and my son. We aren’t a big family anymore. Like all families, we have our highs and lows, but this last week was a solid high. And no matter what the future holds, I want as many of these moments as we can get.
More time together, less distance between us… This is where I hope to land.