Sir Werx A Lot, with his “newer” family was invited to Yom Kippur in an estate off Mulholland Drive, near the tippity-top of Beverly Hills. He wanted the boys to be there with him and asked if I would drive them. Needless to say, I agreed and after pulling up and getting out, the boys were made to wait outside the gated estate pert near 20 minutes before they were even addressed. As other families were entering, handing off their cars to the valet, my boys stood by and watched awkwardly.
Being the ex-wife, I try my best to mind my p’s and q’s around his circle. Thankfully we are both past the point, about needing to make a Goddamn point, when things go slightly askew. Phone calls and texts to their father weren’t getting through, being we were so high up in the hills. Eventually a woman came out and looked at the both of them, her eyes settling on my oldest. As the sun sat upon his shoulders, she asked tersely what they wanted. The boys explained they were looking for their father and his family. She refused to let them enter, and I had no choice but to take them back down the hill.
In the car my youngest said, “Mom, she didn’t let us in because she’s a racist and I could tell she didn’t think that Cruz matched everybody else.” I didn’t say a word, (I know - a miracle) and drove them towards a sushi restaurant. After a flurry of texts and phone calls from Sir Werx A Lot, we trudged back up the hill.
My oldest, who is the family DJ, put on Fire and Rain by James Taylor. While the melody kicked at our hearts, I told them how James Taylor wrote that song about the death of a dear friend, and the importance of looking back at the bumpy road that got him to where he needed to be.
The boys listened closer to the lyrics, and all our eyes watered. One of them asked, “What is Yom Kippur exactly?” The other one googled it as I pulled up once again to the property with entirely three different views. He read out loud that Yom Kippur is about seeking forgiveness for wrong doings against God and other human beings. And I realized that the three of us might just have had a pretty profound Yom Kippur ourselves, on the north side of Mulholland Drive, between Coldwater Canyon and the 405.
artwork by Walter Cumming
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