a shout out to my peeps

As I've said a multitude of times on this blog, I love where I live. But I realized this weekend, I also love where I grew up. For years, for whatever reason, I felt compelled to compare the two. Trade goods for bad's in an attempt to rationalize living so far from my family. This past weekend I grew into a new approach. The be-here-now and appreciate-it-all-for-what-it-is angle. Soak it in and don't try to play one against the other because they are different breeds, different strains. So, with all that gratitude and appreciation in mind, a quick shout out to my peeps and the place that raised me:

• The people. Los Angeles is so beautifully diverse and from the first step off the plane, I began to take in all the colorful beauty of the faces of that beloved city.
• How expansive it is -- driving on the freeway and imagining the brilliant minds who planned out that space, the way we navigate across bridges and multiple lanes, the way people follow a sea of rules to somehow get from here to there safely.
  
• The jacaranda trees in their purple, blooming glory and the purple fairy drops they leave on the sidewalks and streets. Eliana noted it first, "Mama! The trees are purple here!" Pretty damn cool.

• The palm trees. "Look, mama! Trees without branches!" Again, so cool.
• Food. I ate hands down the best burrito ever (scallop burrito, Senior Fish, go there if you are ever in South Pasadena). Authentic food from everywhere, fresh veggies and fruits, lemons the size of Solomon's head that fall from trees and make a thunk on the lawn. Plums we used to suck down before washing our hands off in the pool water. So much can grow here, so much I took for granted for so long.
• Culture. The tremendous space that Lineage Dance is now occupying in downtown Pasadena. Such talent all around, such commitment to the arts.

And last, but certainly not least,

• My family. My mom. The way she takes care of us. Eggies in the morning, special make-believe games, handmade gold sequin headbands, everything done with care and precision. Holding Solomon so I could do things for myself, playing with Elie so I could have a little quiet. The way Eliana corrects her, "TomaHto" with a, "No, Gran, TomAAtoe!" a new little inside joke for the two of them to share.

• My dad. A trip to the zoo where we watched Elie delight in a baboon and her mama snuggling and nursing together, tremendous giraffes, flamingos and their one legged stance, meercats and their funny stare downs. How he made his infamous tunnel joke, pretending to be scared while we zoomed through tunnel after tunnel on the 110. She's beginning to get his sense of humor and that brings her so much closer to me.

• Hilary. Her insane talent. Her warmth and beauty and standing ovations. Her vision, the same vision that choreographed dances to Fame for us to perform for our parents while growing up, now presented on this grand scale. The way she is so calm and cool, even when things are wacky. The way she doesn't rock the boat. Her love of newborns. Her wacky sense of humor. The way I love her like she's a part of myself.

• My other sisters and brothers in all their diversity and individuality. Eliana's cousins and the brilliant brood they form. All of us lounging around my mama's condo. Eating and laughing and sipping whatever cocktail is in vogue this go around. Appreciation all around.

The trip was really perfect. I made the plane trip alone with a tireless toddler and a newborn. I navigated through airports and asked strangers for help. I was my best, most capable self. It makes me feel like my family is not that far away after all, that we can be together, that they will know and understand my children. Because while walking through Greenough Park after arriving home brought incredible peace, the green mountains my new familiar comfort, the twists and turns on that path absolutely predictable and familiar, I didn't feel like I had to measure that peace against anything else. It is the peace of where I live now. But the sounds and smells and smiles, the street lights and pink blue hue to the sky at twilight, the foggy marine layer in the morning, all of that brought me a different kind of peace. The peace that comes from a lifetime of familiarity. An appreciation that I hope I can pass along to my little posse.