L.A. story I was in Los Angeles last week for work. Six days, five nights. No husband, no kids.
The night before I left on the trip, I started getting sad. I was teary as I kissed the girls and put them to bed. The longest I'd been away from them ever was two nights. That was hard enough.
Isn't parental life crazy? When we're stuck at home with the kids, we long for time alone. Time to expand the mind, rest the soul. Go away, and we long to be back with the kids.
L.A. was everything I could have hoped for, work-wise. There was very little time to miss the girls.
Yet I managed to.
Once I squeezed in a walk between sessions and landed at the new Disney concert hall designed by Frank Gehry -- a glorious mass of shiny metal waves reaching up to the sky. The girls would have loved it.
I walked around back to a little garden and followed the sound of water to a rose-shaped fountain. What do you know -- I had pennies in my pocket. But no little girls to fling them and watch them settle to the tiled bottom.
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