I’m in love, o yes, in love: in love with persimmons and Asian pears, with being driven around in the sunshine, picking up pebbles on the beach, being in the dry, salt air of the City of Angels, basking in the warmth of my family of angels. Perhaps we have ironed out the wrinkles of being so necessary to each other, parent and child. Learning how important it is to separate, be separate people, how to help but not intrude.
What am I doing on my winter holiday in Los Angeles? Stripping wallpaper, reading, cooking and washing dishes, exploring stores of abundant merchandise, being away from the cold extremes of Eastern Maritime weather. Learning about love, in its many guises.
And then, of course, the people. The cast: my daughter Tamar who I often mistakenly call my sister (although maybe not much of a mistake), her son Damian who is currently on an enchanting and stressful emotional teeter-totter ride, a five year old growing into his body and his feelings, and Dan, the dad, ever present and caring when with us or not.
And the cats. Good guys. Never thought I could love a cat again. (Almost time to get another dog.)
So there is still much to do, people to meet, parties to go to and probably some tensions to face. Nevertheless, I am putting memories of joys in a box to take home with me.
Love is a funny thing. It comes in all kinds of shapes and sizes and forms.
Posted by leya at December 18, 2003 05:26 PM