When I was sad, or I couldn’t sleep, no matter the time- my favourite cure was always a drive with you.
We would drive to the top of Laurel canyon, past Sunset and Wonderland Avenue, past rows of hibiscus flowers and stone mansions, past trees that shot out rivers of shadows on a path headed to the heavens, till we reached the pinnacle. At this spot, overlooking the veins of neon expanse, we merged with the clouds. Miles away from politicians who acted like movie villains, of nuclear war, of poisoned food and polluted air, of a planet on fire. Sometimes we would look out for U.F.O's, amidst the planes landing in LAX. If it was a particularly shit day, I would pretend the planes were U.F.O's. You would play along, which only made me love you more.
Sometimes we would light a candle and sit on the earth, talk about the miracles we had received and the ones we wanted. Sometimes we would cry. Sometimes we were silent, and that was good, too.
Isn’t it strange how the most remote places can become sanctuaries?