California Dreaming:
Los Angeles, Angeles’ State Park, Amir’s Garden
Life in LA began and ended in New York City.
Homesickness.
An attachment disorder. A quick dip in a cold pool.
Unable to find our footing. Southern californian earthquakes, in their tantrums, had displaced more than the ground beneath our feet. The sun cooked the east coast confidence right off our necks and yet, pockets of peace nestled within the stunning nature around us. We looked forward to afternoons off, day trips along dusty roads, and the soft pink light at dusk.
Los Angeles would never feel like home, but we were grateful for its beauty and the lessons we learned while in its arms.
Sometimes by leaving home, we are confronted with a measure of loss. A loss of collective ideals, values, and idiosyncrasies. What specific places and times had come to mean, and the value they held within our being. Becoming aware of and acutely feeling loss is not necessarily a bad thing. Life demands we test the boundaries of our cages in order to stretch and grow. It demands we do what’s uncomfortable, what frightens us, and what makes us feel like our world no longer exists so that we might find our place in the greater world beyond.
And then there are times when we’re called upon to identify the things and places we don’t want to be so that we might become capable of identifying the things we hold most dear.
Below you’ll find a visual love letter to the Californian spaces that, in their kindness, soothed our tattered heart
Angeles State Park, Pt.2
The day began like most Sundays in Hollywood, with a trip to the farmers market on Selma Ave. and a slow breakfast afterwards. The view from our cozy home looked onto the boulevard below with its tourists and its palm trees and the Hollywood sign lording over the subdued chaos. Except today, that impervious sign was sequestered behind a solid wall of fog. Unusual for sunny LA.
Then came the sound of our phones chiming, one after another after another. Text alerts. The world was being notified that today was no average Sunday. Today would mark a before and after for the lives of a thriving family and in the world of sport and pop culture. But surely the reports were wrong. Who would dare fly on a day like today? The fog was pillar-like in its stillness. It must be some sick internet joke.
It wasn’t.
What should’ve been a normal Sunday, ended in the most severe of hurts. A father and a daughter swallowed mid-flight by the cruel of hand of overconfidence, gone forevermore. Leaving millions bereft.
So many of us leave our homes each day without ever considering the possibility of not returning. Of what it might be like for those we’d leave behind in a messy wake of grief, anger, emptiness, and truncated love. Would our loved ones miss the sound of our heavy steps, our loud breathing, or not so endearing quirks - things that may have once driven them to abstraction? Maybe, just maybe, it’s something we should all give a moments thought to. If for no other reason than to learn to love and appreciate our what we have here and today. If for no other reason than to learn to love, really love and appreciate those who make our apartments, our flats, and our homes, a home.
P.S: If you are viewing the following slideshow from your mobile device, flip the phone over to landscape mode to see the full images
