That Wistful Feeling

A pregnancy scare during a state of emergency, and packing a go bag.

The Santa Ana’s make me feel crazy.

My friend sends this message as I drive home from a lunch date. I’m really not dating right now, intentionally, but I don’t know, lunch is just lunch, right? Don’t overthink it, I think. Christmas trees and crispy, sand colored palm fronds fly around the streets of Hancock park, dodging them is like a game of Tetris. How do the Santa Ana’s make me feel? I ask myself, and when I reach a red I respond: They make me feel wistful.

Getting home was admittedly hairy, but this is why I drive a Jeep that feels like a tank. I’ve heard whispers of a fire in the Palisades, but fires in LA are pretty common - while scary they’re often fairly contained to nature areas. Back in my safe zone, I make a cup of peppermint tea and get back to work - surgically editing and adding fine tune finishing touches my book proposal. Finally. I’ve been on it nearly a year and half.

The sun’s gone all the way down when I hear the sound of shattering glass. I peer outside into a bla…