January 10, 2014
Phoenix to LA = 357 miles
Los Angeles is not really my city. I have experienced far too many people interested in only what you can do for them to hold any dear feelings for the place.
But I won't lie, as the plane touched down, the sun streaming over the tarmac, I felt light. The unusually efficient manner in which we passengers were shepherded through the terminal and our bags already whinging about the carousel when we arrived at baggage claim were both pleasant surprises. And of course, the warm, sunny LA weather greeted me at the curb--not too humid, not too hot.
I spent only a few days meeting with old friends, but it felt like a lifetime. I was reminded of all the days gone by and excited for all the days to come. Everywhere I went, it felt like a few weeks, maybe a month had passed, rather than a year-and-a-half.
I am so grateful for the kindness of old friends and the ability to pick up where we left off without a hitch. At the end of my stay, I got dropped off at the airport, the bright LA sunshine squinting in my eyes, and hopped on a plane ready to finally kick off my grand adventure after many months of waiting and a week of planning.
From the plane as it cruised over the city, I could see the Silverlake reservoir, a reflecting glint of sunset--my last view of America until 2015.