Before now, before cancer, before any of this (but not so very long ago) there was my life in Los Angeles. And before Alan was Irene, my boyfriend alternative, the one who would accompany me to company holiday parties when I had no boyfriend to ask. Life was much simpler then, like an unwound yo yo — no twists, no turns, no terribly exciting surprises (but nothing just plain terrible either).
I lived in a 3 bedroom apartment with Karin and Lisa, two of the best roommates a woman could ever ask for in the history of roommates. We kept things not all together too spick and span but not messy either; just the right level of clean so that no one ever had a bone to pick with the other. In the evenings, after dinner, we might all gather in the living room to watch TV together, something classy, something on MTV.
I lived in a bubble with a 5-mile radius on the West side of L.A. Work was 3 miles away and was a guaranteed 30 minute drive each way, a time allotment perfect for gawking at the immaculate lawns of the million dollar homes creeping by my car window.
I had forgotten how simple a life could be. I had forgotten what it felt like to breathe without a weight on my chest. The simple sweetness came back with a powerful whoosh this weekend when I was in L.A. for Karin’s wedding and to hang out with friends. We watched shows on the Food Network and when one show was over, I hoped that if we sat still enough, more shows would come on, and they did. So there we all sat, watching people eating and making food, talking about this person and that and where they are now and does he have a girlfriend yet and do you remember that time? And not once did I want to get in my car to scream I can’t breathe in the comforting confines of my Honda Civic.
So that’s what I’ve been up to these past few days. Lots of picture posts coming soon…