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Palm Springs

December 25, 2022

Homesickness was a constant problem when I was a girl at the camp. Polly and Burl were often woken in the middle of the night to tend to kids who would literally vomit because they missed home so much. Spoiled babies, as far as Polly was concerned.

I wouldn’t have thought that I’d experience my first bout of homesickness at my advanced age, and in sunny Palm Springs of all places. Yet, when I walked around Araby Commons and thought about Melody’s job offer, I was struck by a painful longing for home, especially when I saw an elf inflatable emerge in someone’s gravel yard, and decorative ornaments hanging from palm fronds.

The holidays pulled me to where my memories were. I couldn’t believe it: I even longed for snow. I missed living somewhere where people still went caroling, where friends had cookie exchanges and white-elephant parties. Our neighbor Roseanne always left bottles of syrup she’d made from trees in her backyard next to our front door. I baked loaves of banana-and-cranberry bread for our friends and the elderly ladies at the senior center where I volunteered.

This year, the only thing on our Christmas Day agenda aside from a gift exchange and dinner with Melody was our family Zoom. When it was over, I said to Grant, “We could have done better.”

“What do you mean?”

I wanted to cry. “I mean, now that it’s just the two of us, we could have tried a little harder for each other for the holiday. Without the girls, we could start to make our own traditions. We could have at least put up a tree.”

“You always complain trees are wasteful.”

“We could make it more romantic.”

“You hate romance. You think it’s cheesy.”

Hobie knocked on our door and entered before waiting for us to open it. He was holding a tin of the fudge that Jeanie had made for everyone in the complex. He wore a slim-fitting blue suit over a black T-shirt. He looked great. “Have you tried this stuff? I think Jeanie forgot to add sugar. Besides, it goes against my macro diet. You want it?”

“Nah,” Grant said. Now he, too, was on a macrobiotic diet.

Grant took the tin into the kitchen and dumped the fudge into the garbage. While he was gone, Hobie lassoed me with his gaze. “It’s hard to resist temptation when it’s sitting right in front of you, know what I mean?” He winked.

“But you didn’t resist. You tried it, and found it disgusting.”

“You won’t know if it’s good unless you take a bite.” He adjusted his collar and ran his palm over his hair. “I’m headed to a pool party at the Ace.”

“A pool party?” Grant asked when he walked back into the living room. “On Christmas Day?”

“There’s always a party somewhere in Palm Springs. The fun never stops.”

Grant began getting his pack ready for the next day’s adventure. He’d been going through a book on area hikes, and he hoped to get to as many as possible before we returned home. He even created a spreadsheet to log his stats, and a calendar with a schedule for the trails he planned to explore. He was especially excited about his New Year’s hike to a place called Cedar Springs.

“Want to try this soul-gazing thing Cassie told me about?” I asked nervously. At last, I was “fully congruent with my yes.” With Melody’s job offer weighing on my mind, I needed to get a better, clearer sense of where I stood with Grant, and where he stood with me.

“Sure. Let’s go full shaman for Christmas like the heretics we are.”

“Okay, well, the point is to ‘expose’ ourselves, so I guess we’re supposed to strip?”

“Well, fa la la la la!”

I locked the door, flipped down the California shades, and took off my clothes. Grant was incredibly comfortable with his body, although, without his glasses, he seemed especially naked and vulnerable.

“You’re practically blind. You won’t even see me.”

“I see you when you let me.” He stood in front of me. “Will you let me?”

“Do I have to?”

He nodded.

“Cassie says this helps us communicate on a deeper level, without words.” We were just inches from each other. “Stand tall,” I said. “We’re supposed to put our shoulders back, arms down by our sides. Now turn your palms so they face out.”

He stepped even closer to me. We were a hair apart.

“Now what? Because I’m getting kind of horny.”

“Just hold on. We start with our eyes closed.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know, as long as we need? It’s not like we’re baking something and need to follow the recipe. Clear your mind and close your eyes.”

I tried to focus on Grant and forget about everything else. I felt my breathing begin to regulate, and I slowly became more aware of his heat and his breath. For the first time all day, I no longer felt homesick.

“We’re supposed to step away and move closer to each other a few times.”

We faltered, both of us self-conscious. This was like the start of meditation, when you think of your thoughts as visitors, inviting them in, and saying goodbye when it’s time to go. I don’t know how long we stood there like that; we slipped into our own private enve lope of space, our own moment, and I did feel a connection forming—not a reconnection, but a powerful new one.

“And now,” I said, “we’re supposed to slowly open our eyes and look deep into each other’s souls.” I was terrified. What would I see when I looked at Grant? What would he see when he looked—really looked—at me?

He stepped closer and reached for my hands. It felt good to touch, to come together. I leaned in closer and pressed my forehead against his. Everything about his face was familiar to me, the angle of every bone, every line. I knew he was smiling, I could feel it. But his hazel eyes? I couldn’t understand why I was nervous to look into them—when was the last time I’d really done that? After all this time, shouldn’t this be easy? Why did I find it so frightening to connect, to see Grant instead of to think of him being a certain way—to really see him?

I decided that if we couldn’t find each other once our gazes met, we might not have a chance. This little intimacy exercise Cassie had told me about in the laundry room had seemed so silly; now it felt like a do-or-die moment for us.

And when I opened my eyes, nothing happened. We didn’t connect.

I was worried that I no longer had feelings for this man, that he was simply there, a companion. Someone I used to know. His eyes were like two question marks.

And then a wave of energy so intense it took my breath away washed over me. How was it possible to be with someone this long and never really see the person? And to not even know we weren’t seeing each other? And to realize the man I fell in love with has been there all along?

It made me crack open, a sensation that was beyond words, a love so big I couldn’t let myself want it because it terrified me—it has always terrified me.

“Do you feel what I’m feeling?” I asked.

It was as if a subway were rumbling below us. The glasses clattered in the cabinets. We pulled away from each other, shocked and terrified.

“Wait, is this is an earthquake? Is this what it feels like?”

“God, it is. I think we made it happen, Kimmy.”

“We’re naked! What do we do? Hide under the furniture? Run outside?”

Grant threw his hands up in the air. “I have no idea. I’ve never felt more midwestern.”

“The earth literally moved.” And then, just like that, it stopped.

Grant said, “I heard the rattling kind are no big deal. The worst are the ones that feel like a sudden shove.”

I couldn’t help but wonder if he was referring to this exact moment in our relationship.

If I hadn’t been so shocked to experience my first earthquake, and so worried about getting dressed in case we had to go outside, I would have repeated my question: Do you feel what I’m feeling?

But I didn’t. So I never had the chance to hear his answer.