5.13.14 - When the lights go down in the city...

When I was a teenager I lived in the Midwest and my dad lived in San Francisco. My siblings and I used to visit him about once a month for a weekend. The combination of getting to see the parent you don't live with, getting to skip a day or two of school, and contrasting the stunning beauty of the bay area with my suburban hometown made San Francisco positively magical to me.

I was so in love with the city. I had postcards of it in my room back home. I had a cartoon map of it behind my bedroom door. I had (and still have, actually) a San Francisco snow globe that included Alcatraz, the Transamerica Pyramid, Coit Tower, and, of course, the Golden Gate Bridge. I used to stare at that snow globe and imagine I was in the city, and miss it.

This is the exact globe, actually.

Once my dad left a voicemail on my phone of him sitting on top of Fort Point, under the Golden Gate Bridge, during foggy weather. The voicemail included the foghorn, and I used to replay it and close my eyes and imagine I was also sitting under the Golden Gate.

I moved to San Francisco when I was 19. I waitressed at a local pizza place for a year while waiting for in-state tuition. I went to the City College of San Francisco for almost four years. I lived just across the bay in Berkeley for two more, and down in San Mateo for another year after that.

Of course living in a place is very different than visiting it for weekend getaways. And of course there are aspects of the city I dislike--no place is perfect. But in all the time I've lived in the bay area, I never fully got used to the sheer beauty of it. I love driving into the city, whether over the Golden Gate, over the Bay Bridge, or even coming from the south on 101. In each case, when the city first comes into view I think it's gorgeous.

And by now I have so many memories that further enrich the experience. The last few months I've been here a lot helping prepare my dad's house to be rented. The last one or two trips I've felt so very sentimental as I enter the city. Not tearful, not quite, but near that. Maybe it's because my life is entering a really new phase. This August I will have lived in California as an adult for 10 years. I keep thinking about what my life was like 10 years ago, and wondering what I'll be looking back on 10 years from now. Renting out the SF house adds to the poignancy, since it's possible none of my family will permanently live in San Francisco again. The end of an era.

The last few days I've been driving all around the city running errands for Dad as we finish up prepping the house. I realized I don't mind driving around at all, especially late at night, as it gives me an excuse to reminisce to myself about the places I'm driving past, to appreciate the beauty and the memories. I don't know why I feel as if I'm saying goodbye--we are only setting up a vacation rental home so we'll be able to come back and meet together at the house many times over still. Even so, I'm so nostalgic about it. This morning I drove past the Palace of Fine Arts on my way back from an errand and marveled at how many times--since childhood--I've walked around that place. I also drove through the Persidio along the same bus route that took me from the community college nearly every day for years, and thought about how much work that was and how proud I am to have finished it and come as far as I have. I also thought about the clubs and fun nights with Renata, and the visits from out-of-state friends.

The first time we ever hung out--at a club in SF. 2007.

Sarah and me on Mt. Tam. 2004.

All this to say: there's already been a lot of beauty and good memories in my life, and I'm not even 30 yet. I think I'm a very lucky person.