8 years ago...
...this week, Mark and I boarded a flight for Los Angeles with our two sons - aged 6 and 18 months old.
Our 6 year old was still in his school uniform, as we'd picked him up straight from school.
Six weeks previously, I'd been offered a writing job at CBS. We lived in London. The job was in LA.
Time was tight, but there was just enough time to pack up our life in London and find somewhere to live.
But no time at all to organize all manner of other stuff you don't think about until you need it, like schools, and doctors, and driving licenses, and babysitters.
We arrived in LAX on October 23rd 2008, with our two boys and all that we could pack into eight suitcases.
The plan was that we were going to stay in America for three to six months, maybe a year.
On Sunday, the day before I was due to start work, we got the keys to the house we'd rented from the internet. It had said it was part furnished - but apparently in LA speak, 'part furnished' meant that it had a cooker and a refrigerator: No beds, no sofa, no tables, no chairs, no crockery, no silverware, no sheets, no bedding.
That particular Sunday I learned two things:
In the US, IKEA do same day deliveries.
No matter whatever difficulty I might ever experience from some unpronounceable piece of toot called TVEEKY or BARG with incomprehensible assembly instructions, I will always be grateful for the mattresses and bedding we slept on that night.
Because we were so restricted with space, Mark and I limited ourselves to one 'luxury item' we could bring from the UK.
Mark, ever practical, brought a projector.
I brought a wig and a kite. (I know that's two - I cheated)
I don't know what Freud would have to say about it, but it worked.
The projector, plugged into a laptop, meant we watched TV shows projected onto one of our big blank walls. The wig worked perfectly for Halloween and the Kite was the perfect thing for the boys when we took them to the beach.
The following months were tricky: New job. New bank accounts. An out of state wedding. Then, on December 1st, my mother died.
And then, as if the year wanted to eek out as much stress as possible, the school lost my six year old in a public park after a Christmas concert.
As Mark and I sat in our barely furnished house in the last day of 2008, we could not believe how innocently the year had started.
And as to where 2009 was going, we had no idea.
That's one of those mental things about how life happens. It doesn't fit into any one genre.
One week can be rom com, the next action adventure, spilling into horror. The one after that ... period drama, or crime, or sci-fi, or thriller, and then all back to rom com again.
So, when students in the class say, "I'm not sure I have a story," I just smile and nod because what it really means is, " I have a gazillion stories, but they're all kind of mangled up together."
If someone is breathing, then something has happened to, or around, them. That is story.
Looking back on our journey to America 8 years ago, I see a lot of it differently.
At the time I felt out of control, lost and vulnerable. Now I look back at it with pride, and a fair amount of humor.
At the time a wig and a kite seemed like absolute 'must haves.' Now, I'm not so sure.
But I still feel EXACTLY the same about realtors who offer up properties as "part furnished."
If you have a story to tell, sign up for course here.
You can see/hear & new storytellers tell their stories THIS WEEK on October 27th
Have a wonderful week!
Very best,
Lynn
xox
November Course. Details here.
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