A Foggy Fairy Tale

I drove from Ventura to LA with an eight foot surfboard blocking all views from my rear view mirror and right side. Extremely safe. The heat was exceptional (okay, for Southern California), because our sweet city is burning again :(. The mushroom cloud of smoke rising from the Los Angeles forest covers the horizon off the bluff. Very looming.
I saw people for the first time in six months and felt like we had never parted, though at the same time, I smiled bigger than I can remember smiling in a long time. There were some necessary hiccups. But the best part of the night had nothing to do with happiness or smiles...there were many tears, and much joy.
Vega came over, and after too much whining about how badly we were going to fail, we (okay, she and Molly) made an almost perfect Spanish tortilla. After showing it off to everyone who came through the door (not one complaint), we settled down snug on our carpet couch to watch Evita with Madonna and Antonio Banderas. Sure, it's festive music, and has an extremely delicious male lead, but overall, what a sad movie. What a realistic, sad movie, which makes you think, sometimes too hard. So as the final credits crept in after Eva Peron's coffin faded out, we three sat in silence, staring at the laptop, each in her own silent, scary world. There was no way I was going to bed on such a note, so heavy-legged and dirty from moving boxes and flipping potatoes all day, we trekked out to the bluff and sat and stared in silence at the Los Angeles lights below. We each fought our own demons, but I, at least, felt extremely comforted by their presence. There's nothing better and worse than hugs and tears.
I needed a night like that. I lacked them abroad. Most of those nights consisted of FUNFUNFUN, but I am ready for the real world. With a little fun on the side, for sure :).
Thank you to my girls for that foggyfairytale first night back.