Right as Rain.

Project 365, Day 175/365

A little over three years ago, I moved to Los Angeles from Florida, after having lived there essentially my whole life. Three years has felt both like 30 years and also like I’m still just here visiting, waiting to hop back on the plane to go back. It’s funny how a place can get to be comfortable, like “home” but also feel like it isn’t yours at all.

My relationship with LA and California has come a LONG way in these three years. It had a bit of a rocky start, my mind always threatening to go back to the suburban life that fit me like a glove before coming out here. Parking anywhere was so easy. Traffic was manageable. Everything I thought was expensive, like food and gas, I laugh at now. INCOME TAX! Ay. But in the past year or so, I’ve really grown quite fond of this place. When Charles and I went to a Dodgers baseball game the other day, the jumbotron was broadcasting the sun setting around the Hollywood sign. I turned to him and say “we get to live here. Here.” He looked at me, said “yeah, we do,” and I knew he felt what I felt. Lucky. It’s not an easy place to live by any means, but it can be so special in so many ways.

An earned love. The kind of love that grows. It wasn’t first-sight love. It wasn’t even second-sight love. It was a painfully slow tinder that sneakily grew into a warm glowy fire.

But there is something I’ll never be able to get out here. Something my soul NEEDS. An itch that’s always just out of reach.

Rain.

This is the desert, after all.

Being a born and bred Florida girl, rain is part of my DNA. Rumbling thunder (err…terrifying lightening), heavy afternoon droplets slapping against windows, and sure…the occasional tornado waring. Admittedly, I don’t miss the latter. But rain is a very regular occurrence where I come from. It’s part of life. Growing up, I hated when it rained. A nuisance. It usually meant my mom would say I couldn’t go anywhere, worried the roads would be slick and dangerous. She loved the rain, though. I remember being stumped, almost annoyed with confusion about why my mom always wished for a rainy day. Now, I get it.

Charles and I moved at the end of April 2018. At the end of August 2018, I was back on a plane, headed back home to see my family and meet my new nephew who was born exactly a month after we left. I don’t remember much about that flight, besides the smile plastered across my face every time I envisioned seeing all the faces of my loved ones, holding that little peanut baby for the first time. But what I do remember very clearly was what I did when we landed.

As the plane taxied at Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood International, I immediately took in the scene out the window: it was raining. Seeing that was like taking in a deep breath after holding it in for an exceptionally long time. I immediately started to cry. The sight of rain to me means home. My heart needed that so badly then. And it still needs it now.

Anytime I see rain in a TV show or a movie, I have a visceral reaction of desire, of want. It’s like knowing how delicious cheese is but then developing a violent lactose intolerance. Cheese is still out there, existing in the world, but you can’t touch it. And man, you love cheese. Some days, you can get by on convincing yourself that hamburger is just fine without a slice of cheddar. Other days, you lie so well to yourself you utter such things as “you know, vegan cheese is basically just like real cheese! My pizza doesn’t even need it!” But as you finish the words, you know you barely believe yourself.

That’s me. And rain.

There’s a lot I wouldn’t want to give up about life in California. The weather, apart from its lack of precipitation, is glorious 80% of the year. The nature is spectacular. There’s always something to do and somewhere to go. The people can be open minded and (mostly) incredibly inviting and wonderful. Ooof is the food good.

But that lack of rain…it gets me. My one giant red flag in my relationship with this city. Sometimes, our souls just need certain things. Mine, evidently, needs rainstorms. All I’m saying is, the next time I go home to visit, it better rain at least half the time I’m there. I’ll need an emotional savings account to bring back west with me.

See you tomorrow, FOAS.