Home is where the heart is
February 15th, 2022
My last day in LA. My last day at home. What happens after is unclear, so better to grasp what was within reach. I just wanted to enjoy the city. I wanted to enjoy my time alone. I wanted to enjoy the inspiration that the city offers. Above anything else, I wanted to push away reality for just one last day, to immerse myself in my dreams.
Others would probably spend their last night clubbing or getting high on the beach. I, on the other hand, spent my last hours in a peaceful quiet. I purposefully avoided any human contact. When I’m back in the Netherlands, there’ll be plenty of social pressure. There will be plenty of pressure from any direction for that matter. So, I sought out my favorite café-restaurant and positioned my laptop in the sunlight. Looking out on the Venice sign and some amateur skateboarders, I wrote for as long as the sun allowed me.
There was only one mission on my mind: Write, write, write. I needed to finish this story that has been playing in my head for ages. I've never dedicated so much thought to anything as to that story, yet I'm too embarrassed of it to share it. I need to let it go so I can focus on more important things, but I can't leave it without careful consideration.
Back in Utrecht, the story will be buried in a pile of job applications and money stress. I’ll be worried about work, about my living situation, about being a good friend and a good family member. As long as I’m in LA, none of those things matter. There are no expectations to fulfill. There’s just me and my head in my favorite places. Here, I’m not worrying about the same old guys or the same old people that make me question my life decisions. Here, I feel fine as I am. Like I’m right where I belong, despite looking bigger and wilder than most people in the restaurant.
There's no search, no yearning. The city fills me with perfect clarity, a sense of direction. There's no other way but forward: to finish what's been started.
A dark overcast interrupted my final session in the sun. A storm was coming. Not ready to abandon my project, I moved to the white interior. Hail clattered against the windows, yet the view was still better than on any winter day in the Netherlands. If only my country was this beautiful in the rain, it would make my life path so much easier.
Next to me, four men sat down to discuss a film they were producing. Their conversation was only two feet away, still I wasn't a part of it (yet). Someday in the future, I'll sit down in a conversation like that and discuss the movie rights to my book—or something in that direction. If it happens two feet away from me as I'm ordering a gin-tonic, I can be one of them as well.
When the clouds had spilled their content and my head was empty, I moved to the beach to watch the sun go down for the last time. As much as the city may take, these sunsets always give, saving the best for last. Bright orange and pink above the sea, the sky behind me a purple fog as a reminder of what once was. There was still a faint line of sunshine separating the sky from the water when I left the beach behind me, but it was enough for now. I will see it again.
