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I’m sitting outside on my patio with a cup of coffee mixed with vanilla soy milk. The kind of milk my fiancé calls “too plant-y.”
A knit is thrown on my lap. There’s a super chic hipster cafe that is roasting what smells like sweet potatoes and sausage next door. A man is singing along to De’Angelo’s “How Does It Feel” as he waits for traffic to clear.
Across the street there is the Los Globos Nightclub that waits patiently for nightfall. That’s when bar crawlers emerge and form a line out the door the length of a football stadium.
This is Sunset Boulevard, a place I’m happy to call my home. A place far more grungy than tourists expect it to be, and therefore, a place all the more lovable.
I like places that are messy like this. Loud and overstimulating. Rude and busy. I like that Los Angeles is filled with street garbage, and that no one bothers asking me for identy documents.
I like it here because its real and there aren’t any exchanges about what nice weather we’re having. People here are proud of their community, they give back, but they don’t take any crap either.
For me the little things are where I live and the coffee I drink. It’s also the obnoxious, inescapable awareness that I’m not the only dearly beloved one living this thing called life.
I’m grateful for this porch, and for this knit blanket that keeps me warm. I sit out there and marvel at the number 16. 16 is the number of beds I’ve slept in. 16 is the age that I first fell in love. 16 is the number of donuts I can eat in one sitting.
The little things are also the things I’ll never have like the chance to have truly known my sister.
I’m grateful for these little things because they allow me to thrive. I rock the relationships that I do have in my life.
I make sure my brother knows I’m there for him. I remind my partner of my faithfulness. I give to my dogs, although rarely walked, all the love in the world.
I wrap the blanket around me tighter and watch the breeze settle into the eucalyptus tree above my head.
The little things are really the big things in the end.
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