Walk with Me: Some Musings While the World Burns
By: Kaitlin Brennan
Tags: Blog, Essay Writing, Creative Non Fiction, Comedy

An incredibly picturesque courtyard I walk past on my long route.

I breathe in and the morning air is cold and crisp. It’s a week into November and fall is finally in Los Angeles. Thank god. Running the various A/C units in our big, old, uninsulated 4-bedroom house is getting expensive. Before starting my walk, I inhale one more time, almost not believing it isn’t 98 degrees and miserable outside. The 7am sun is reflecting the stained glass from our front door onto the porch. I step through the rainbow and out onto the sidewalk and turn right, just like yesterday. It’s almost ceremonial. This morning walk is, in a way, my new ritual.

Bundled up with a sweater, beanie, boots and my hot tea (I’ve switched to a morning English or Irish breakfast due to anxiety. Not fun or ideal!), I’m up with the early morning dog walkers. Ever since daylight savings, I can’t sleep in past 9am. I used to Doom Scroll for hours while the world waited for the election results during That Dark Week, but I’m trying not to do that anymore. Instead, I’m using my time to walk dogless and purposeless through my neighborhood, completely absorbed in my own thoughts. It’s called progress.

I actually am working on staying more present, it’s too easy to just slip away — especially during these times. We’re all just sitting around inside, checking Twitter to see if the coup has started or not. With not a lot tethering me to my typical routine and reality, daydreams can easily overtake. In my defense though, why shouldn’t they? I don’t have healthcare, a boyfriend and also my knee feels weird sometimes. But it hasn’t always been this bad. Why is it that 2020 feels particularly unbearable than the rest? Is this a sign that we should all smash our electronics and move into the woods? I now think there is a thing as being too informed on the current political climate.

After passing about 6 houses, I look down to avoid all the cracks and bumps in the sidewalk. It’s early but the neighborhood is waking up. I wave to the old man who’s always sitting on his front porch every morning, drinking his coffee and letting the sun warm his body.

I’ve been afraid of dying recently. It’s strange cause I feel like I’ve never really thought about it much before. Maybe this is what it feels like to approach 30? Feeling your mortality. Suddenly, I feel scared that I’m not better prepared for my future. I can’t write ad copy forever, I need a retirement plan. And if I die tomorrow, what will my life have stood for? Did I even accomplish anything worthwhile? I wonder what they will write and say about me. Probably not all great stuff.

It’s weird how being dead can immortalize people in a way. My grandpa died and we only talk about the good things about him, never the bad. And I’m not saying he was a terrible person, just that he was, you know, a person…and so therefore flawed. I guess it would be weird to talk about his bad qualities. It’s not like he can fix them. Never mind…this was a bad thought. Ignore it!

I take a left on E. Kensington and head up the hill. My neighborhood is quite hilly and the streets twist and curve with large Victorian houses stacked on top of them. No house looks the same and they are painted in bright purple and blue and green and yellow hues. The stained glass windows, crown molding and arched porch roofs add even more vibrant flavor to the mix. Many of the porches are covered in green plants and big cozy outdoor chairs or couches. I think having a nice porch is key to having a happy life. Also, money is nice too.

There are always people to avoid, I’ve never once had to not hop into the street to escape a maskless passerby. And even though you can hear the cars on the freeway sometimes, the birds are always louder. I like the energy my neighborhood has, always moving, always loud, always bold and proud.

Sometimes I think about how I was too scared to truly do what I wanted for so long. All that wasted time and energy trying to be what I thought everyone wanted, instead of just being honest in the first place. I think it’s important to be bold. We only get one life to lead, after all…which feels unfair. I would lovveee to get the opportunity to live again and again and again. Maybe in my other life, I cooked more and grew a garden full of fresh ingredients I’d use in my meals. Maybe I stayed with radio journalism and went abroad and fell in love and stayed over there, had kids and everything too.

By the time I get to the stairs, I’ve finished my tea. This hard concrete stairway isn’t just at the end of Kengsington, they’re everywhere. One of the stairs in my neighborhood boasts over 230 steps. (There’s another one I take to access Sunset Boulevard for my taco and coffee needs.) But this particular flight spits me out right next to Carroll Ave, my favorite street in Angelino Heights. It has the nicest and the biggest houses, with gold-trimmed roofs and fancy furniture in the windows. Owning a house on this block would be a dream of mine, but a therapist once told me that it’s best to set realistic goals.

Maybe by the time I am 40 I will be able to afford a house? My Gen Z roommate told me that her mom didn’t have her until she was 42. So, it makes me less afraid that I’m single right now. Sometimes, it feels like my ovaries are sending off a bat signal into the sky. But having kids, especially now, feels psychotic. Especially for me — alone and loveless in a big city. Until one day when everything changes. Cue the romcom music.

As I turn off Carroll, I stop to take in the view. The blue cloudless sky, a few scattered palm trees, the tall downtown skyscrapers and the Victorian houses all neatly stacked on top of a grassy hill. It’s perfect and it’s home and it’s mine.

I can’t believe I’ve survived a recession and pandemic in new city with 10 million people. It feels like maybe someone made a paperwork mistake somewhere and I’m living in an alternate life. But it hasn’t always been sunny morning walks. It was panicked calls home, crying in cars, making budgets and applying for lots of jobs. It was boredom and loneliness and frustration.

I turn towards home. I don’t know what will happen tomorrow. Hopefully, they give us a damn stimulus check. But I can hear the birds singing and as a yawn forces its way out of my mouth, I know it’s time for another cup of tea.