Eleven years ago dreamed and schemed for a way to move to Southern California. I fantasized, journaled, and listed all the ways it could happen. Eventually, I packed my bags and my mom and drove out here to live with (Auntie) (Doctor) Lisa in a great apartment in Pasadena with a view of the mountains.
I was at times scared, lonely, or homesick, but always excited and full of adventure, which is what propelled me through those first few years in which I didn’t have many local friends or a loyal hair stylist. (I will scan my “Rachel” hairdo for you some other time). A few years into my L.A. residence, the adventure part faded and the crowded, sick of traffic, sick of Hollywood side of me started to emerge. It doesn’t help that when you work at a cable entertainment network then Hollywood should have been your major in college. Now that I have a child, my homesickness has taken over, and I yearn for my extended family and the way of life they can provide my child(ren).
I held the homesickness at bay as much as I could, but eventually I had to admit to myself, had to be TRUE to myself, that I really do want to move back home. This is not admitting defeat or failure in any way. After all, I came to Los Angeles to seek my fame and fortune, and I always knew I was destined for a great love. As for fortune and as for fame – well, they were invited but what I got was a handful of blog readers and a house in the valley. It’s okay by me. And the great love that I thought would be a whirlwind, worldwide romance turns out to be the overwhelming paralyzing love for my husband and son. Who knew?
I guess I could have found all of those things anywhere, but it’s here in gridlocked L.A. that I grew up and grew my thick skin. Now Kyle has disarmed me and made me stronger – I am vulnerable yet ferociously protective of him. I am easily moved to puddles of tears, yet I will argue with a complete stranger in defense of motherhood and my child. (Okay, I never had trouble arguing with strangers before, but bear with me.)
I finally told Stewart that I want to move. For a long time I held back and said I would settle for somewhere on the East Coast where he could surf and sail and it would be warm. But that isn’t enough. I want to be within a short drive of Gramma and Grampa’s house, the beach where I grew up, and the great-grandparents and the many aunts and uncles Kyle et al. will have. I want that life for him, because I had it, and it was so great.
I find it hard to connect with the younger me who wanted to leave it all so badly. But I am so glad she did it, because look what I got!
Anyway the point is, no, we’re not moving, at least not yet. We have a five year plan.