#11. A Part of Me Still Lives Here
Thoughts I had on a recent trip to L.A., one year after moving back to Minnesota
Exactly one year ago today, I boarded a plane at LAX bound for Minneapolis/St. Paul with a one-way ticket and two checked bags. I sat at the airport in a city I had called “home” for the last 10+ years full of excitement, trepidation, and the bittersweet feeling of leaving L.A. as a resident for the very last time. I stared out the window and pictured my best friend driving down Lincoln boulevard after dropping me off only 15 minutes prior, a few tears still sliding down my face. We said we wouldn’t cry! But of course we did. We had known this day was coming since the very first days of our friendship nearly five years ago, but here it was, still so difficult despite its inevitability.
My first year back in Minnesota was better than I could have asked for. I had a soft landing in a comfortable duplex with beautiful, unpainted wood where Paul and I lived for two months waiting on spring and the closing date on a house we had spent months fighting for. After we moved in, I spent the summer basking in the magic of my new city, combining furniture with Paul and settling into the first house I had ever owned, my heart full, even if it ached at times for people and places I had left behind. As the leaves began to change colors and the buzz of activity slowly transitioned back indoors, I mentally prepared for the months I knew would be the hardest, with days where St. Paul and Los Angeles had an almost 100-degree temperature difference. I’d check the weather every day in both locations, poking fun at my team on Zoom when they’d say 50˚ was so cold, remembering when I used to feel that way not so long ago.
In the last year, I’ve been back to Los Angeles six times. I feel like this is a little unusual, but working for a company based in L.A. gives me a lovely excuse to see friends I miss so much every other month or so. I’m not always in the area just for work–the trip I took last week was mostly to choose a caterer for our wedding in Palm Springs, where Paul and I spent a delightful (but extremely busy!) three days with my parents trying out food and hotels–and sometimes I wonder how often I’ll be in L.A. once work and our wedding no longer brings me there.
Being in L.A. now fills me with an odd sense of existing in two worlds. I grew up there, in the sense that Los Angeles is where I became the adult version of myself, and there are parts of the city where memories exist on almost every street corner. I drive around L.A. with a confidence I don’t have yet in Minnesota, which I know will come to me with time. Most days, I have no regrets about my move (my resolve only slightly shaky when the temperature drops below 0˚, haha), but I am still sometimes nostalgic for the past and the people I left behind in pursuit of the life I am living now.
A year after moving across the country, I find myself missing the comforts of a city I still know so well, but I am easily reminded of the reasons I left. Spending time in L.A. now–a city I’m almost certain I will never live in again–is an unusual exercise in reminiscing about the past, visiting people and places still buried deep in my heart, and a test of one of the biggest decisions I’ve ever made that I consistently pass.
I leave Palm Springs on a warm Wednesday afternoon, driving out of the airport after hugging Paul goodbye before his flight back home. I map the route to L.A. on my phone just to find my way to the 10, then confidently press “End Route” with two hours to go as I find my way to a friend’s place on the westside of Los Angeles with ease. I drive with my elbow resting lightly on the window sill, like I’ve done so many times before, completely at ease on familiar roads I still know better than the ones at home.
The next morning, I pick up coffee from the same Starbucks I used to visit several times a week before I moved away. The store is still listed as one of my “favorites” on the app I use to order, and I walk there on autopilot, listening to a podcast like I’ve done at least a hundred times before. I look for other familiar landmarks as I drive through the city–my car wash is now the bones of an apartment building; a run-down strip mall that used to house a favorite restaurant is still under construction, which started long before I left. I know the traffic patterns well enough to arrive a minute early for a photo shoot in a different part of the city, buzzing my boss’ intercom and greeting her with our usual “hulluhhh???” before I go inside.
After our shoot, I catch up with a co-worker whose life has been taken over by a sea of moving boxes as she prepares to leave L.A. for New York, drinking a glass of rosé at a tiny bar around the corner. I make my way down the 405 as the sun is setting, silently calculating how many times I’ve driven this particular stretch of highway before. 50? 100? Maybe more? Almost an hour later, I arrive in my old neighborhood and resist the urge to turn onto my old street, remembering at the last minute that I’m staying with friends a few blocks away. A part of me still lives here, in the apartment where I felt my heart finally start to heal, where I chose myself and an uncertain future not so long ago. I park and close my eyes for a moment. I can immediately picture myself walking with white headphones through my old neighborhood in the warm California sun, where a part of me will remain forever, embedded in the walls of my refuge from the world.
I make plans to see a friend I met in grad school for lunch the next afternoon. For almost two years we saw each other twice a week, pumping ourselves full of caffeine to try and stay awake in classes that ended at 10pm on a weekday. “Din Tai Fung?” she suggests; a place I often insist on going whenever I come back to visit. “Obviously,” I respond, as I get back in the car and drive down Santa Monica boulevard, parking in the exact location in the vast garage that I know is closest to the restaurant without even thinking. We do a few laps around the mall after stuffing ourselves with soup dumplings, like no time has passed at all. We duck into a store and try on the exact same pair of pants in tiny white stalls next to each other, coming out and laughing at ourselves in the huge mirror at how much taller I am than she is, which somehow I had forgotten about.
On the way to my best friend’s house the morning of my last day in L.A., I see my dog a few blocks ahead, just steps from the front door of my old apartment. I said goodbye to her for the very last time a year ago, and I still have a hard time saying her name without my eyes starting to well up. She’s walking happily, tail swooshing joyfully back and forth like always, in front of a couple that looks like it could be my ex and his new girlfriend. Heart racing, I speed through the last block to the intersection in my tiny rental car and crane my head to the left, eyes desperately searching the sidewalk for a better look, but they’ve vanished. I blink a few times just to be sure and slowly turn in the opposite direction, unsure if they were ever there at all or just a trick of my imagination, the ghost of my past right there on the sidewalk.
Standing in line to get coffee, I text Paul and hear a woman in her car yell, “get out of the road, you stupid bitch!” to a pedestrian jaywalking to CVS across the street. I raise my eyebrows and laugh, and after 20 minutes waiting for my $7 oat milk latte, I remember why I rarely came here even when I lived within walking distance. Coffee in hand, I weave my way through Brentwood, past two familiar apartments a few blocks apart where a friend / former co-worker and I lived for a few years, commuting to work downtown together in our mid-twenties. She has a baby now and lives in a house by the airport, but I can still see the imprints of our younger selves walking down Dorothy and jogging right to Darlington, two friends (to this day) brought together by someone neither of us talk to anymore.
I speed down Bundy and weave my way through Mar Vista; a combination of turns that once took me months to memorize. I profusely apologize for being late, and my best friend immediately takes me to see “my” new bed, which is a beautiful pull-out couch–green velvet with ivory contrast piping–that she’d been waiting to arrive for over six months. I flop down on it immediately and claim it as my own, already counting down the days until the next time I’m in town.
Looking for adventure, we eat pizza at a new place on the east side, delighted by a disco ball in the entry throwing rainbows across the entire restaurant. On the way home, we walk through an open house that is so bad we cut the tour short and laugh hysterically at my friend’s husband, who runs back to the car like a clicker from The Last of Us. My fur niece cuddles with me back at the house before I head to the airport, a pit in my stomach the whole drive as I wonder whether I’ve underestimated the traffic and might not make my flight. I arrive to a mostly empty airport and almost immediately board a plane like I’ve done so many times before, feeling like I’m both leaving home and flying back to it.
I wake the next morning clearly still on Pacific time to a balmy 35˚ winter day. My local coffee shop has changed their WiFi password to “heatwave,” which makes me laugh. Back at our house, I settle in with a book on the couch I moved all the way across the country a year ago, feeling grateful for almost a week away in a familiar landscape filled with warm welcomes and bittersweet nostalgia, but happy to be home.
What’s Up This Week
My best friend’s husband has great taste in music, and this song (“Best to You” by Blood Orange) was playing in his car as we cruised from Venice over to Echo Park to try Quarter Sheets on Saturday afternoon. A great song to drive around to with the volume turned up and the windows cracked.
I stayed up past my bedtime on Sunday tearing through the last 100 pages of Hell Bent by Leigh Bardugo, my book club pick for February. If you read it and want to discuss, there’s a poll up in Geneva to find out what day/time might work best for everyone who is interested!
I have so many thoughts about this book!!! Mainly, that it was so good to be back at Yale immersed in the world of Lethe. Hell Bent has demons, rituals, murderers, and even vampires. A delight! Although the first 100 pages were a bit of a slog (and left me wishing I had done a full re-read of Ninth House before beginning, instead of just refreshing my memory with the last 50 pages), Hell Bent picks up the pace in the middle, and by the end, I was flying through it. After page 400 or so, there was just absolutely no chance I would be able to put it down until the very end.
Although I do have critiques (a certain “glowstick erection” comes to mind lol), overall, I loved it! There’s a section in the middle that explores the stories of four murderers that I thought was incredible. I give it an 8/10, and can’t wait to discuss with anyone who finishes it by next week!
I get all kinds of happy feelings looking at Poorna Jagannathan’s home in L.A., especially the emerald green kitchen. So good!!!!
I shared my very brief thoughts on every Merit product the other week on Instagram, but ICYMI, I’m really into their Flush Balm right now. My best friend told me about how much she likes it a while ago, and she was right. Merit just released four new colors a few weeks ago, which I think is cause to try this if you haven’t already.
I’ve been wearing cult-classic NARS powder blush in “Orgasm” since I was still in the womb (okay I was probably like 18, but basically the same thing??). After moving back to Minnesota, though, I’ve noticed that my skin really doesn’t love powders in the winter. Or maybe I’m just getting older! Either way, enter Flush Balm, which I’ve been using since late November after buying every Merit product during Black Friday. It’s easy to apply and blend, and the finish is very natural. I just dab a bit on my cheeks and blend upwards with a makeup brush, which takes all of 10 seconds. I have the cool pink shade, “Cheeky,” but I think next time I’ll probably get the soft peach “Beverly Hills.”
If you’re looking to spend $40 to get free shipping (aren’t we all), I also recommend Brow 1980. It’s very similar to Boy Brow but doesn’t require wiping some of the product off the brush before using it, which is very nice! I also like the packaging better and feel like the look is a bit more natural than Boy Brow. I’m also very into Shade Slick if you’re not much of a brow gal. I’m wearing all three in the photo above.
P.S. ICYMI, my newsletter doesn’t have any ads or affiliate links, so this section contains neither :)
2019 Bookwalter Cabernet Sauvignon Reader
This Washington state Cabernet Sauvignon blend made the famous Wine Spectator 2022 “Top 100 Wines of the Year” list! For those who don’t know, Wine Spectator is a long-running, fairly well-respected wine review publication. At the end of each year, they release their top 100 wines of the year. These wines are selected via a top-secret formula that they have developed, which takes into consideration the number of bottles produced, MSRP, and quality level (as determined by their panel of professional reviewers). This wine was prestigiously rated #41 on 2022’s list, and we are going to taste it.
MSRP: $28ish
Availability: Fairly wide
Appearance: Young, vibrant, purplish/reddish rim.
Nose: Initially shy, but blossoming after an hour of air in glass. Fairly intense notes of cranberry sauce on Thanksgiving. A hint of caramel, and slap me in the face with a big ‘ol raspberry leather fruit snack. And a background whiff of bell pepper seeds, a classic marker of cab sauv.
Palate: Smoky, singed cedar with evergreen pine resin. Frozen acai berries and red currants. Very wintery? A surprising medium body, because the flavor intensity is high. Confusing for what it is. Polished, fine, young, green tannins. Nice medium acidity for balance.
Worth it?: This is an opportunity to have a wine in your glass that Wine Spectator ranked #41 on their 2022 “Top 100” list because of its incredible value. At under $30, it is a world of fun to find out if you agree with them! Just be sure to open it three hours before serving, or decant it for one hour. If you try it, we want to know!
My read of the week is: “An AI Filter Revealed My Secret Self’ by Thao Thai for Wired. I’m a huge fan of Thao’s work, and this piece about AI self-portraits (you know those weird AI generated photos we were seeing everyone posting online in January?) as a problematic alternate reality–that also feels closer to the “truth” of who she is than real photos of her do–was a fascinating read.
The shocking elimination of Christina Mandrell last week prompted me to create a new section just for my thoughts on The Bachelor/ette, which will run every week from now on while we’re in season, come hell or high water. Episode 3 was a *mess* with two pretty uninspiring one-on-one dates (although Kaity is now on my radar for final four) and an extremely dramatic, much too early expulsion of one of the most dynamic players we’ve seen in years. Congrats I guess to Brianna, who decided she was over this shit and took Christina Mandrell down with her after self-eliminating, which is typically always a bad play, but in this case actually worked very well. I’m sure we’ll see them both in Paradise this summer.
Episode 4 was so uneventful I almost fell asleep.
My new final four prediction is only slightly different from my guess after night one: Katherine, Kaity, Gabi, and Jess. Possibly Charity. And I have my eye on Gabi for next Bachelorette. Was also surprised to see mid-episode eliminations of both Bailey (Bailen?) and Anastasia, who I really liked and thought would go far. What is going on with this season?!
That’s it for me! See you next week.
K bye,
Kelly
P.S. Last week, paid subscribers got issue #10, “Perfection Reincarnated as a Dress?” in their inboxes. It’s an essay full of my thoughts about how I finally chose a wedding dress after weeks of getting a lot of conflicting opinions/advice about my final four dresses from my close friends and family, and realizing I don’t need to chase perfection.
#11. A Part of Me Still Lives Here
Ahh your LA reflections are so relatable. I moved to Seattle a few years ago after spending my whole life in Atlanta, but still head back south several times a year to see family and friends. “Feeling like I’m both leaving home and flying back to it” - this, always. And so weird to now sometimes feel like a stranger in a city I lived for so long, when I visit and come across new places that didn’t exist before or start to doubt a route I used to drive every day but haven’t taken for 3 years. So bittersweet!
Also excited about Hell Bent! I did choose to fully reread Ninth House so I’m a bit behind, but hoping to burn through it and join next week’s discussion!