I’m kind of glad I wasn’t home to watch the game today. OUCH, boys. Ouch. But it’s all good because August thumped us good last year and I love the Giants no matter what.
So while I lived in North Carolina, I missed California immensely. I missed the delta breeze, I missed the eucalyptus trees, I missed the smell of the ocean (doesn’t smell the same on the east coast). I missed San Francisco and the fog and the deceptive weather and the marine layer and the Financial District and the bridges, even though I have to white-knuckle it when I drive over them. I missed the palm trees and the rainy Novembers and I even missed Sacramento. Mostly I missed San Francisco. I spent hours on Google Earth, street viewing my favorite neighborhoods, looking at pictures and remembering things: sleeping in Washington Square Park, hiking up to Coit Tower with Meredith because we were stupid and AWESOME, standing under the Kerouac Alley sign outside City Lights, Matt Nathanson at the Swedish American, Matt Nathanson in Berkeley, Howie Day at the Fillmore, Dave Matthews Band at the Polo Field and the horrible Muni ride back to our BART station. I looked up real estate listings and apartment listings and daydreamed. Daydreamed of so many things. Wrote so many stories.
I had, for all intents and purposes, left my heart in San Francisco.
Now I’m back in California, settled in Sacramento, and I have not spent enough time in San Francisco. I haven’t spent ANY time in San Francisco except for the Giants game last month, and we didn’t even have time to do anything else. That’s why I took so many pictures of the Bay Bridge, of the ships moving through the bay, of the sun painting the water and the sky at dusk, of the skyline through the mesh behind me. I am in love with this city. I am this city. This city is me. I miss it even now, feel the ache in my bones like I did when I was 3,000 miles away. If I could grind myself down into sidewalks, become a fleck of fool’s gold, I would.
In September, we’re heading into SF for the Dodgers series and I am already torn. There are so many things I want to do and see in addition to the games. I want to spend an afternoon reacquainting myself with North Beach, browsing the poetry room in City Lights, and sitting in the park. I want to spend some time in Berkeley because it’s been too long. We won’t be able to do all of those things, and that’s okay. But every time I leave this city, I leave another piece of myself behind. Someday I’ll have the time to pick up all of those pieces and sort them back into place. Maybe in a new order. Maybe create something new and precious. Maybe I’ll have help (those eyes I’ve dreamed of so many years).
Someday I’ll be whole again.