I haven’t been back long and yet already find myself settling into the usual rut that home so often brings, which — despite stemming from the comforts of said home — can be stifling nonetheless There’s a big city in this peninsula; with so many people to meet and so much to do, but with all the miles and hills and frustrating public transportation in between me and that new or old destination, I so often opt to stay home, often venturing no further out then to the market for a sandwich and then the park to eat it. My world is a two block radius.
Until the day comes when a friend invites me to meet her two neighborhoods over, which was just close enough to tempt me outdoors, and — as it turns out — just far enough away to make me realize what I’ve been missing. I sailed down all the busy streets in a cab and ran two blocks in my new vintage boots before ducking into the crowded little cozy bar for happy hour and grilled cheese. The sun began to set; my companion and I parted ways, and I walked back slowly, pausing to catch the last of its rays from this hilltop in Alamo Square before they melted below the buildings, the trees of the Golden Gate Park, the horizon. In the pale dark I walked home with the big, silent, bay window eyes watching me; just another passerby they’ve witnessed in the steady stream of time that breathes so thick in the air here. There’s just no substitute for getting outside, and doing things.