Hope Street

As I walked through my neighborhood to the grocery store for the last time today, it felt like I had come full circle.  Arriving in LA 6 years ago, I had no car, I had no kids and I walked everywhere.  Hearing my flip flops hitting that same sidewalk this afternoon reminded me of those early days, and for a second, it almost felt as if this whole wild experience had just been a crazy dream.

I have always had the heart of a wanderer.  Leaving home at 18, I set my sights on the big western skies.  It wasn’t without hesitation that I left my family, a full life and all my friends behind. But a wanderer cannot help the lust for adventure that beckons from within.  

Since that initial move West, I have become quite adept at, what some may call, ‘blowing up my life’.  I’d move somewhere, establish myself, become part of the community and then leave it all behind when the winds of change blew once again.  With each desertion of a life I’d created, there was a twinge of sadness, but the excitement of a new adventure ahead always overshadowed any feelings of loss. 

This time feels entirely different.  In the years since Oliver’s birth, that desire and ability to easily uproot myself has vanished almost completely.  Life since that Birthing Day has brought with it nothing but change, uncertainty and experiences that have taught me the profound value of meaningful friendships and community.  These relationships are no longer something I take for granted. 

Now, the thought of rebuilding a life in a new place seems daunting on my best days and flat out impossible on my worst. And I find myself whispering to the universe late at night, begging for even a tiny amount of consistency to rest upon.  But that’s not my path.  I am a seeker. I always have been.  And that means remaining open to the heart’s call, even when it seems far simpler.. and safer… to remain in familiarity.  

Our LA chapter has come to a close and I am so grateful to have had this week here to say farewell.  It’s been an emotional rollercoaster but through the tears and laughter, I have felt outrageously supported by the family I have gained here in this crazy place.  My crew came out of the woodwork to make this move happen and I have never felt so loved.  Not too many years ago I felt flawed, friendless and unlovable.  This week showed me that it’s time to drop the rest of those self-defeating stories and replace them with the belief that amazing people will continue to come into my life wherever we go.  

Tonight, I sit on the floor where my desk once stood, where the first words of Oliver’s Odyssey were written, and look out the big bay window at the tree I focused on during my first hours of labor five years ago.  This has been a good home <3, an urban treehouse, where I learned to love more fiercely than I ever had before.  

It is with the familiar sting of loss and a deep sadness that I say goodbye to this place and turn my sights to the lush forests that are calling me home.  

For privacy reasons, I’ve never chosen to share this before, but the LA apartment that’s been our home for the last 6 years, sits on Hope Street … a synchronicity that has always given me comfort in times of unimaginable pain.

Tomorrow, I may be leaving this street, but I will carry its message with me as I go.

❤ ❤ ❤