You know, I really miss Los Angeles. It's been ten years since I was last out there.
I miss the unspeakable beauty of the mountains running into the sea, the irrefutable difference from the land scape of North Carolina, the white houses perched on the sides of hills and mountains, tall skinny palms and short shaggy palms and monkey puzzle trees and flowers everywhere. Hell, I kinda even miss the acrid smell of smog. What I don't miss is traffic, tooting horns, and the distinct feeling that if you ain't somebody, you're nobody. Of course, this comes from hanging around in Beverly Hills and such, stargazing. Still...
I'd like to take my son out to LA for his graduation in June. He's never been on a plane, much less out West before. He would love it. He's a lot like I always was: kind of a fish out of water in this town. Although I love my home and defend it regularly against the attacks of others, I can see their point. I'd live at the beach if it wasn't for my folks. But even then, Fayetteville would always be home.
We've got a week off from school, and it could not have come at a better time. The students were so restless and tired, so were the teachers. It's only Monday and I am already dreading going back.