ARMS OF THE ANGELS

Figuring out what one needs to survive for three more weeks in L.A....tomorrow I go to the DMV to straighten out the paperwork in order to divest myself of my '98 Nissan Frontier 4x4--my "good horse". (Scary to be without a personal vehicle in Los Angeles...however, karmically, it IS exactly how I landed here...minus my own set of wheels. ) So I will exit.

The loft is filled with about ten boxes, packed and taped and ready to be transported to Fed/EX, three blocks away. (A whole adult life condensed into ten medium sized boxes...) Of course,much has gone to friends; much left out for the dumpster divers in the neighborhood. (I'm not the only one...more residents in this building are clearing out, too. Someone left extra large cans of ravioli and vegetarian baked beans, intact, on top of the trash can lid--for the homeless combing through our junk. Made me sad. Reminded me why I need to get out of here...) Some things I've been asked for: the super put dibs on any art supplies I might be tossing--for his daughter. He also asked for a few of my paintings--I had to tell him that they are all spoken for. A few first edition books are finding new homes; the drums will be out of here by next week; so, too, my last guitar and the home-made dream catcher made for me by a fellow teacher (now a marine biologist in Texas). Each "lost" item carries a little twinge--like a loose tooth. (I can't stop playing with the pain.)

A friend told me that California,"Allows everything but supports nothing". She left OC with her husband, for a life in Georgia, teaching at a metaphysical school down there. Her husband died of cancer, not long after. She's still in Georgia, missing California weather and the beaches and her grandchildren, but not the hectic pace. Not the homeless hopelessness. She thinks it's a "wonderful and courageous move you are making, Minns". (I wonder.)

A friend from MA tells me she worries about my leaving my CA friends.."How painful it must be." I have shared with her that it IS the hardest. However, mathematically, my closest CA friends are spread throughout the state--some hundreds of miles away. The ones in L.A. are so busy with their partners and children that they have little time to "do stuff" anymore--at least on a regular basis. I miss the daily lunches and long conversations over coffee; but I don't miss spending the holidays going from rowdy party to rowdy party,trying to dull the ache of no family, near.

Unemployment has underlined these situations, for sure. That's a great portion of this decision to leave. However, my focus is on aging parents and healing hometown karma, while I still can. Having the gift of being able to make this decision, at this precise time, and not "leaving anyone" undone, as I fly away, is huge. I don't take it for granted--thus, I can't ignore it.

I think back on my friends--real friends--and I realize that I've had folks close, wherever I've landed, all my life. Now, they are scattered all over the world. That's what comes as one grows older. I have friends in Europe, in Africa, on both coasts of Canada, in San Francisco, in Santa Cruz, in Napa Valley, in Orange County, in San Diego, in the Canyonlands, in Mexico, in Chicago, in Buffalo, in Rochester and NYC, in Boston, in Vermont, in Connecticut, in Portland and Seattle, in Iowa and Maine, in Houston and Austin, on Cape Cod, in Georgia, in Denmark, in places too numerous to name. Somehow, thank God, in this era of telecommunications, they all feel as close as an e-mail, in the middle of the night. They all respond when called. They still consider me "close" and worth staying in contact with. Moving out of this decaying city, well, it won't change much of that.

Meanwhile, I move closer to childhood connections. Bruised and burnished with age. Vital and genuine. I move back to unhealed sibling rivalry with hopes of making amends for forgotten wrongs. I return to a town changed and changing. With new armor, new tools, maybe a new chance to give something back. My hope is that my luck will hold in the friend department. There are people that I will meet whom I've never known. So, even as saying good-bye to my California connections is the most painful part of deconstructing, part of me looks forward to the folks I haven't encountered, yet. I may be unlucky in romance, but have always held a royal flush when it comes to friends.

I tip my baseball cap, in this almost-empty loft, to everyone who dared to care or carry me; to all those I grew close to and offered my hand. It is so corny...like an astronaut taking a first walk outside the cabin....not exactly death...just...another adventure...another step into the unknown.