This past weekend I went down to San Diego to see Al.  He has been staying with his brother and sister-in-law for the past three weeks and has been looking for an apartment as well.  Those of you  of a certain age might be surprised to hear that, even when you’re not a college student, renting an apartment is not what it used to be.  Remember when you’d show up with your hair combed and your checkbook in hand, you’d smile nice and talk intelligent-like and the landlord would say “You seem like a nice person” and you’d move in?

No more.  Now it’s the credit report. The application.  The references.  Not to mention the outrageous rents.  Al finally found a place in Little Italy section of San Diego – a fun little neighborhood that comes alive on the weekends.  The one bedroom is a condo and the owner lives in Irvine.  He was lucky to get it for a few months.  So step two is done. We get to pay two rents.  Woo hoo.

Now on to step three, which is waiting to find out exactly when Al’s job moves to Irvine and then finding a second place to live while we sell this house and look for another down there. This weekend was not an easy one – for starters we are not as young as we used to be and moving stuff back and forth between  his brother’s place and his rental, as well as picking up a new mattress and box spring was exhausting work.  We did that on Saturday and then Sunday the real fun began.

Al and I got in the car and went up north.  We started in Irvine which may not have been the best idea, because by the time we had gone past where his job would be located I was a zombie woman.  My soul had been totally sucked out of my body.  Irvine, which was strawberry fields when we first moved here, was totally developed.  It is the very definition of “sterile.”  I know I don’t have to live there, but I was tired and scared and poor Al had to listen to me have a nervous breakdown in the car.  My sons know what this is like and it’s never a shining moment of maturity and grace for me.  “I can’t live here even temporarily!” was pretty much the long and short of it.  My mind became a Willy Wonka train ride of visions of women with bulbous plastic lips and white blond hair and a house with no yard and endless traffic and…

I ordered my chauffeur to drive straightaway to the beach communities and as we neared them my soul returned to my body.  I can live there.  I can even live in Irvine temporarily (although step 2.5 is going to be finding a short term rental that will allow a boxer dog!).  I kind of wonder if I will revert back to my nature girl self there.  My hair frizzes up with the ocean air – I can toss my flat iron and curling iron – they will be just a waste of time.  And what a great place to write my books.   It may be quite liberating after all.  I tell myself that every weekend will be like a mini-vacation.

But as I write, it is raining here in Lafayette.  I am looking out my window which is eye level with the treetops and everything is wet and green, the squirrels are hopping around, the bucks are chasing the lady deer. I will miss that.  I’m so scared, and yet I have faith that the ocean will soothe me – you are never really alone or far from eternity when you walk along the ocean.

Right?