We are creatures of habit.  We shy away and often refuse to acknowledge the unfamiliar~steadfastly & stubbornly clinging to something that no longer exists.  I keep opening the bathroom drawer for a hairbrush even though I moved it across the room over two months ago.  And I keep expecting the life I had in LA to suddenly materialize whenever I go back there.  People have moved.  The dynamics have shifted, my sister’s and I’s perfect little Hollywood apartment is no longer ours, no longer filled with our eclectic knick~knacks & loud music and I know this.

Yet I still live my life as if someday I will return to that apartment, that time, that place, even though it is no longer there.  The building still stands, the city still throbs, but that essence we created, that niche we had valiantly carved out, has been flitted away on the winds of change.  Who I became then, my LA self, is still very much who I am now-though I often forget that when I’m vacuuming up pizza crusts and wiping off dirty little faces.  On a clear dark night though, when I’m driving down an empty highway 9 and I can see the twinkling city lights ahead of me, I turn up the radio, roll down the window and I’m LA again.

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