Better Things

The most January of Januarys is finally over. Onwards!

I have been lost for words this month. I think everyone in LA has. Apocalyptic. Unprecedented. Surreal. There are certainly go-to adjectives to describe what's been happening throughout the city but they all seem futile when so many people have lost their homes and their lives as they knew them. The reality is that even if you're lucky enough to have not been directly impacted (the category I fall into), you know of someone else who has.

The air - frankly the hottest top of conversation across What's App mom groups since the release of All Fours by Miranda July - feels thick with grief, fear and anxiety. January has excelled itself. The resolutions, hearty home-cooked dinners and bracing beach walks that usually keep me sane during the first month of the year have been replaced by panic ordering air purifiers, googling: 'can you drink after taking diazepam,' and frantically booking last-minute mini-breaks (far, far from the Bridget Jones kind, let me tell you).

Scrolling through photos on my iPhone, I'm reminded of the big things that will forever define this month. The smoke you could see from the window of my three-year-old's preschool on the day the Palisades blaze broke out. Maggie grabbing my hand: "I want to show you something," she said, swiftly followed by, "will the fire hurt me?"

Heartbreaking, significant things quickly switch to silly small things with the swipe of a finger. The anxious little girl who repeatedly asked me for "one more hug," at preschool drop off, larking about at a zoo in Palm Springs. Where an observation about a wallaby's tail turned into an unexpected conversation about genitalia. "It looks like a penis," commented Maggie, casually. Being unable to disguise our amusement (so mature!) only spurred her on. "Penis! Penis! Penis!" she shrieked. And boy, it felt good to laugh.

Just when I thought January couldn't get any more, well, January, I decided to take my driving test. I say I decided. It was all down to my neighbour, Claudia, really. Feeling in limbo of "nothing feels normal; we can't just carry on as normal!" I tried to convinced myself that taking my driving test was the last thing I should be doing this month. Claudia, meanwhile, had other ideas.

"I actually think it's the perfect time. The roads will be so quiet!" Thank you, Claudia, for the vote of confidence. Jokes aside, it was the perfect time because it gave me something to focus on. It got me out of my head. Amidst everything else that was going on; against the background noise that was sometimes deafening, I had a clear, concise goal to work towards.

I make it sound so logical. I was a nervous, emotional wreck in the days before and Claudia was an absolute tower of strength. Although a lot of people in my life knew I had been practicing and preparing for my test, I didn't tell anyone else when I was actually taking it. Claudia calmly carried the burden and accompanied me to the DMV last Tuesday morning.

Ten minutes before my 10am driving test is due to begin, I'm waiting in a line of teenagers, accompanied by their parents/guardians. The guy in front of us looks like he's about to wet himself. Claudia - my guardian (angel!) - sweeps into action, reassuring him with a warm smile that he's going to be just great. She has me take some deep breaths. She never once lets on that she's feeling as nervous as I am. That’s just the kind of person she is.

Next we're in the car and my examiner approaches. Claudia helps break the ice; she's all, "thank you, Mary, I'm so pleased you're nice!" before leaving us to it. She really has thought of everything, hasn’t she? I reach for a stick of chewing gum to stop me from passing out and then I proceed to drive.

As we're leaving the test centre, I hit the curb. Claudia stands back and watches in horror. She'll later tell me that she said, 'SHIT' out loud, which is quite unlike her. Apparently you can make up to 15 minor mistakes in this driving test, but a critical error will end your test immediately. I take a deep breath and figure I'll keep driving until I hear otherwise.

I continue to make mistakes. Errors like turning right when the examiner has asked me to turn left (!), late lane changing and, I'll be honest, not really knowing what to do when we approach road works, the list goes on. Errors that I'm convinced will total more than 15 points. Although she hasn't asked me to stop, so...

We pull back into the test centre after 20 minutes (yes, that's the length of this test, vs about 45 minutes in the UK). The examiner tells me all the mistakes I made. I listen as she goes through them carefully, convinced she's telling me that these are the areas I need to work on before I retake my test.

But then... lo and behold... "You only made 10 errors so - CONGRATULATIONS!"

I'm stunned. I mean, I'm thrilled. But I'm literally in shock. That was a terrible drive. Granted, I was very nervous. She knew I was nervous. I think she could tell I was a decent driver and just nervous but... I CAN'T BELIEVE IT. I passed!

Claudia is crying happy tears. Chris says, "God help us all." I decide we're going out to dinner to celebrate and I feel like Cher in Clueless when I drive us there and VALET park for the first time.

I'm no longer a virgin who can't drive! I am a 43-year-old who can drive!

Big things. Small things. Better things. January, you can now do one.