www.stephanieyoungrosen.com
A place has magic to conjure the past, but it is the people of that place that make it still feel like home.
A year and a day after moving to Albuquerque, I return to my Los Angeles for the first time. I am here to surprise my close friend Carolyn on her 60th. All great things take a village, and thankfully the village we created ten years ago when our kids were babies is thriving. Within no time, I’ve got a ride from the airport, place to stay overnight, and a ton of friends to see for the first time in what feels like forever. Had childcare plans come through, Jory would have come with. Instead, I am solo. It’s been so long since I’ve flown anywhere that I am (unnecessarily) nervous in this ever-changing world. As the plane descends over the place I called home for 26 years, I can’t stop smiling. On the short drive from the airport to her gorgeous home, my dear friend Lory fills me in on changes that friends and neighbors have braved. It is akin to getting the update on your favorite TV show: Person A sold his company. B’s father died of Covid, but husband started at Zoom before the pandemic with huge stock options. C’s daughter is being recruited by Duke U, and so on. We sit on her rooftop, the majestic Pacific at our feet, if not solving the world’s problems, at least keeping them at bay for the afternoon. En route to the party, we drive past a parade of RVs on Jefferson Boulevard, filled with homeless. Our town library’s park is now littered with homeless tents, some with two rooms and porches, implying that these people have not always been homeless. This hits me right in the gut. So many of us Angelenos were/are house poor, most of our dwindling income, then savings, going to our mortgages or rent. It was not sustainable: the homeless population in LA has mushroomed by 13% in the past year alone. Those who could, left. Others found this tent/RV solution. But with no running water, these encampments make for medieval sanitation conditions. More scars of COVID. But a hidden silver lining of COVID is the level of appreciation people feel just to be at a party, albeit outside with chilly ocean breezes. We have all been in isolation for so long, that going to an outdoor birthday party has become an Event of Epic Proportions. For me, of course, the highlight is surprising beautiful Carolyn, who regally sports a tiara and sash. How I have missed our birthday dinners, family get-togethers, girls’ night outs. How I have missed my friends. To pull off the surprise, Lory tells Carolyn she has someone to introduce her to, at which point I run to her, arms outstretched. Carolyn has that surreal moment, the kind when her eyes are telling her something her brain cannot process. Clearly shocked, she blurts out, “Didn't you RSVP’d no?” I laugh, “I texted your husband instead.” And then we are both crying those tears of joy that come when you go to great lengths to show up for each other. Since we hadn’t all been together in the last year and a half, the party takes on the vibe of a 10th year reunion, most of these friendships spanning at least ten years. Instead of discussing “What kindergarten?” it’s “What middle school? High School?” We toast the radiant birthday girl in roasts and heartfelt reflections. We dance because “I’ve got a feelin’…Tonight’s gonna be a good good night” and let loose over other old gems. Laughter punctuates the party. The lawn games go ignored because we are all just want to catch up, to hear about our time apart. It’s one of those nights when you wish you could stop time, all of us happy and together and healthy. In the final minutes of this magical fete, our friend Cindy falls. Hard. Someone says she twisted her ankle. Someone else says she tripped. It isn’t alcohol related because she's our designated driver. She slammed her head on the pavement and bruised her lower back. Panicked, the restaurant manager brings her two huge bags of ice. We help her rest, stay with her while she recovers, boost her spirits. Later that night, after a glass of wine with Kristina by her beautiful fire pit, I drift off, feeling grounded by these friendships in a way I have very much missed. A few hours later, I awaken, mind racing. I can’t stop thinking about Cindy and why she fell. One of the updates Lory gave when she picked me up at the airport was that two years ago, Cindy was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. Because I didn’t want the news to be true, I pushed it out of my mind. I didn’t even mention it when I saw Cindy. But that is not how life works. Cindy fell because loss of balance is a major symptom of MS. It's what prompted her to discover she had MS. And it’s not going away, and it’s not going to get better. Even in the midst of celebration, the demons that plague us are lurking in the shadows. So we owe it to ourselves to show up for each other both when we soar and when we fall, not just one or the other. Because when we cheer each other on, soaring through accomplishments and milestones, we ourselves are lifted up, reminded of how full, how sweet, how possible life can be. And then of course, to witness each other falling reminds us of our common frailty, because we all fall, usually when least expected: loved ones die, contracts get terminated, kids make foolish choices, cars and computers break down, opportunities that were slam dunks don’t materialize. And when we fall, we get to pick each other up, pack on the ice, sit together and breathe. When I was young and foolish, I missed most weddings and fancy events of close friends. I felt I couldn’t afford to attend these events: airfare, hotel, car rental, food. Now, I understand that I cannot afford to miss them. It’s not that by raising three kids on one income we suddenly have disposable cash to jet to a party. It’s that these pockets of joy in our village are what make Life both sparkle and feel like Home.
3 Comments
9/28/2021 10:26:39 am
Thank you, Stephanie, this entry really helped me today. 🤠
Reply
Donna
9/28/2021 03:06:46 pm
Love this joyful recounting of your wonderful time with friends, Steph!! XOXO
Reply
Lauri
9/29/2021 09:27:40 am
Absolutely. So true, and so well-said. I'm so glad you were able to have a joyous weekend. (And we were in Austin, TX recently and the homeless are everywhere - and also fairly aggressive. We as a society need to solve the problem of affordable housing and healthcare.)
Reply
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorSteph: friend, writer, wife, mother, sister, daughter, lover of life, and of chocolate. Archives
October 2024
Categories
All
|