Here’s the thing.
I love Los Angeles. I wish I still lived there. When I lived there, it was right for me and I felt great.
But that was before Sadie.
I’ve been traveling a lot this year, and when I’m gone for more than a week, I worry she’s forgotten me. I worry she might even miss me, even though she’s only 9 months old. I worry I will miss something.
Three days a week I have her while my sister and brother-in-law (to be) work. Three days a week where my life is so much brighter, where my life feels like it could be so much longer.
I never want to miss one of those days, those weeks, those months with her.
I’m rooted now, in her. In her red, curly hair. In her Army crawl and loud giggles that attract the attention of everyone in Wegmans. She’s not mine–she’s got the greatest mother in the world–but she’s attached to me in a way I didn’t expect but so, so cherish.
So, no; I’ll probably never live in Los Angeles for more than a winter at a time. I’ll probably move back to Brooklyn when my health is right. I’ll never leave Sadie, not for long.
This is the only place for me