“I am an agent of chaos,” I chuckle to myself as I slyly slide the “Cambria Style” magazine back into the seat pouch in front of me, minus an 8th of a page. That page 8th– sporting a Steven Tyler quote– becomes a bookmark in my latest travel companion on my final flight returning to New York City. Little thrills, ya know. The book in my hands is called tiny beautiful things: Advice on love and life from Dear Sugar. A read long overdue. A gift from a friend who, as most of my dearest friends have done at one point or another, gave me what I needed before I even knew the need was there.
I’m flying out of Palm Springs, but I flew into LAX a week ago. Only about a half a day was spent around my old college campus, but it felt as though I cycled through the last five years of my life. It fucking hurt. It was also wonderful. Some reunions were more painful than I prefer to admit. Some filled my heart faster and more fully than I could believe. Some memories still impossible to swallow. Some go down just a tad more easily than before. It was incredible how quickly I fell back into rhythm with old friends and mentors, but I felt more than enough reminders of why I made the choice to move 3000 miles away when I did. Los Angeles and so many of its people still hold my heart, but I have a long way to go before I can see myself back in that city. Nothing defines us more clearly than our choices. Mine carried me through these places and to these people and now have landed me in an entirely new life. As for that life? My watch is ended.
After the first night, my best friend from my hometown saved my ass (yet again) and drove all the way to LA and back to get me to my family. My sister, my maternal-grandmother, my parents and I then loaded into our mini-van for our lengthy trek up north, aka the actual reason I’d returned to California. My Great-Aunt Dolores, whose bone disease left her in a wheelchair and wasn’t supposed to allow her to live past age 15, was celebrating her 90th birthday. We picked up my brother and his girlfriend from Davis before heading up to our final destination in Northern California: Red Bluff, population 14,104. Dolores has lived on the same 80 square feet of land her whole life. She’s remained a devout Catholic, devout Notre Dame football fan, and devout supporter of the extended family for all this time. Unsurprisingly, her birthday celebration was packed with loved ones. Road trips aren’t new for my family, especially my immediate family. Neither is going to somewhat extreme lengths to make sure we’re physically present for important events or emotionally present for difficult ones. The further my young adult life has taken me, the more fortunate I realize I am with the examples I’ve been given. This is what we do. This is my foundation.
Back to the plane. I “sneakily” coughed through my ripping out a slice of magazine to use as my bookmark. The quote in question, from a recent interview with Tyler, said “I am still dreaming, so I live the life of a twenty-year-old– a very lucky twenty-year-old.” As for me, I remain an exceptionally lucky 23-year-old. Dreams have always dominated my mind, but this is the first time in my life that they’re dominating my actions as well.
More lights than my eyes can comprehend fill my window. JFK, I’m back.
CarlyDreme 