anti:freeze

This morning I flew from Portland to Los Angeles, for my final residency at Antioch University. By June 30th, I will have my MFA in Creative Nonfiction, and I'm sad to think about turning in my thesis; disappointed to imagine it bound in black leather and slid onto a shelf at the Antioch library, where my essays will collect dust for years to come.

But what I'm thinking about now is my flight - the way Los Angeles looked from the air, stretching out for miles. I have this fantasy of moving here, just to see if I can do it. It's the ultimate challenge - a woman who doesn't even know how to drive, who is terrified of cars, making it in the City of Angels.

I remember late nights in LAX terminals, and how Los Angeles looked from the night sky as my flights took off - like someone spilled champagne all over the desert. Today, as my plane descended through smog into bright afternoon sunshine, the city looked more ordered and rational, all the blocks lined up straight, all the corners right angles.

Did I mention that my airplane was filled with missionaries, on their way to Lima, Peru? I sat next to one of them, and she was probably the nicest person I have ever met. I hope she's sleeping now, as she soars over South America. She was very tired, and very nervous about her first trip to a foreign land, where she plans to take poor children to camp and help change the world. She didn't even mind my dreads.