May 6th, 1990
It was sunny when we landed at Heathrow but my mood was gloomy after what felt like a grueling ten plus hour flight, where all I could think about was the vast distance between LA and London.
Didn’t get home ‘til after three, at which point there was no use in trying to sleep so I baked, of all things, croissants, which mum and I ate, one after the other, with ridiculous amounts of tea.
Granda has gone into a nursing home after suffering a nasty fall so dad is up in Scotland taking care of things. Mum said he’s pretty upset with some of his siblings who, he feels, have been neglecting their Father. Poor Granda, hopefully he’ll settle in his new surroundings.
Mum and I sat in the garden for ages with Tini, who I swear would live outside if he could.
“I’m glad you had such a good time with David and got to see his place.”
“You’d love it mum, it’s so beachy and cool.”
“Aye well who knows you might end up living there.”
“Och, you never know where life will take ye.”
“Do you really think I’d move to America?”
“For the right reasons, aye.”
“But what about you and dad?”
She looked at me as if I’d spoken a different language. “What about us?”
“Eh, did it escape your attention that I’m your only child?”
“Don’t be cheeky! Just so you know, we want the best for you.”
“Even if it meant me moving to a different country?”
“I loved it when I lived in America.”
“I’m not being rude mum, but you were only there for a year and a half and you knew you’d be coming home.”
“I just don’t see you staying here.”
“Wow, so you and dad would be ok with me making a huge move like that?”
“Listen hen, life is short, so whether you live here, America or Timbuktu, we just want you to be happy.”
I fell into bed thinking about what it’d be like to live in California and I thought I was dreaming when I heard mum’s voice. “Karen. David’s on the phone.”
Dream or no dream, that was enough to wake me.
David and I had the loveliest chat, during which we laughed as we recounted all of the great things we managed to do and see in such a short space of time.
“I need you back here.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” I teased.
“Yes. I need you. Here. With me. On the roof. Writing your diary.”