It's been two weeks and two days since I flew away from sunny San Francisco. Over these two weeks, I've witnessed the devastation from tornadoes in Birmingham, watched the wildfires of Los Angeles burn down Palisades, and braced the bitter wind and snow in New York City. Tonight, I sat alone in a quiet restaurant just around the corner of my stay and downed a small bottle of hot sake, and reminisced about this life I've had.
I remember packing up my college apartment in Baltimore, after everyone left for home or post-grad vacations. I was feverish, and not just from COVID. Besides the brief trip in middle school, I have never seen the west coast, let alone live there. I was afraid - I had no friends, no connections out there. I had to start my adult life completely on my own, again, just like when I was 14. Not to mention the pain and baggage I carried from four years in Baltimore. I envied those who were moving to NYC. How could I not? After all, that is the shining beacon of civilization in all of the United States as we've been told, and San Francisco, besides the occasional bad press on the news, was a complete mystery to me.
Packed, boarded, landed, unpacked. After a brief tour of the apartment, and receiving my very own keys, the first thing I did was going for a stroll along 24th Mission. I have only seen it from Google Maps, and the reality was completely different from my imagination. It was chilly and foggy in July, I have never experienced anything like it. I kept walking, and walking, and I couldn't stop. Little did I know then, but my next two and a half years here will always be remembered as some of the happiest days of my young life.
I remember watching sunset after sunset on Ocean Beach, by that whimsical seaside cottage dressed in blue.
I remember hopping from booths to booths at the Valentine's Day markets in Balmy Alley, and the festivals in North Beach.
I remember jazzy nights at Arcana, where Orange Sunshine feat. my friend, a saxophone artist, played all night long.
And so on, and so on.
I am all alone once more. It was like Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo, and I was living in a fever dream. The flowers blooming along the avenues, and the fog rolling over Twin Peaks. Sure, the problems that existed in my own personal life would continue to haunt me, but at the end of the day, it was the city and me. No harm would come to me, or the ones I loved. The piercing gale knocked me back to my senses, and before I knew it, I was standing out in the freezing, unforgiving, endless, relentless winter. Death by a thousand cuts.
All I wanted now, was to be back on the greens of Mission Dolores Park. To roam the jagged streets of Bernal Heights. To see the panoramic view atop Coit Tower. I just want to hold them close once more, before they are all gone, and fade into memory. I will be back before long.