Last Wednesday afternoon I exited the 101 freeway at Laurel Canyon, headed south. As I approached Laurel Canyon and Moorpark, to the left of me was a park; the one near the Los Angeles “River” (you know it as the flood control basin that fills with water when it occasionally rains prompting the city’s yahoos to stand on the concrete rim to watch the rushing stream until at least one person falls in, prompting a swift water rescue by the LAFD, which will be televised as late breaking news interrupting the regularly scheduled program). This was the park where I took my son Oscar when he was an infant because at that time we lived in Studio City. And across the street from this park was the apartment building of my very close friend Patty who passed away from cancer, the summer of 2009.
Today I am at the home of Oscar and his wife. But his home, which is no longer my home, is not in Studio City. Hell, it is not even in Los Angeles, or California or even west of the Mississippi. It is in Lake Peekskill, New York. And his place overlooks the lake. The lake itself is small enough that you can see the opposite shore from the bank of windows in his living room. Today I saw two geese swimming in the lake that is framed by hundreds of weeping willow trees.
His living in New York is so ironic for me. I was born in New York. But all three of my sons were born and raised in LA, specifically the Valley. Yet my first-born has returned to his ancestral homeland. Things, in an airy fairy, cosmic sense have come full circle in my family. And because of the fact that I still live in LA, this means I miss him just about every single day of my life. This is not something I planned. It just happened. Yes, from my selfish place I want him and his lovely wife to move to LA, like now. But since I no longer believe in the tooth fairy or Santa Claus or that “anything can happen,” I’ve had to make peace with myself about this situation. So instead of becoming a bitter middle-aged woman whose life didn’t turn out like she planned, I have decided to be happy in knowing that he is where he is supposed to be, he is growing as a man and a husband and that when I do come to visit we have a great time that includes discussions on topics such as the difference between intelligence and wisdom Man, I am one lucky woman.