It has been about 2 months since Jenny came to see me. I somehow never did all the blogging I wanted to do about all the fun times we had together: it was epic. But those are stories for another day.
You see I love it when friends that don't live here come to visit. SF is a major tourist spot and I live her: so, I have the in. I know where to go for great food; I know where to drive down the coast; and I know what random events are worth checking out. Adding to the joy of Jenny's visit, Jenny's friend Kim, who also lives here, knows different parts of the city. Combine our knowledge with a visitor to entertain and the fun begins. We got to play traveler in our own city (I would say tourist, but tourist do the lame for show stuff and travelers discover the fun things waiting to be enjoyed).
Funny thing is I often forget how wonderful these moments are when I get to show off my city. I forget how much I love this place and how much it has to offer, that is until my friends come visit. Then as I get to start scheming and dreaming of ways to entertain them I fall in love again. In those moments this place is home, and I am blissfully aware that I get the privilege to live here. Not only do I get the privilege to live here, but I have the joy of meaningful work and a community of amazing friends.
Nonetheless, when my visitors leave I am reminded why it is often so hard to think of staying here forever. It isn't that I don't LOVE my friends that live here, it is just that somehow this place don't always feel like home. San Francisco is competitive and busy; therefore, my friends all work crazy hours and are fabulously busy pursuing the best version of themselves, and that means that we don't do weekly hangout nights and we all chase different dreams. I love them for that, I am inspired by them, I am a better person because of them. I also sometimes long for the slower pace of a different life. The pace of a place that feels more like home.
Here in lies the conundrum: I am not really sure what home feels like. Some days it feels the view of the city sky line when I reenter the city, it feels like getting on my bike and riding to work; it feels like rushing around to a thousand different engagements all in one weekend, attending events that I always imagined where intended for people much more metropolitan than myself, free tickets to amazing Museums and dining on fabulous organic food and wine: all these things feel like home. Still, at times I long for the taste of Tex Mex and the feel of 103 degree heat on a summer day, sitting with friends in a back yard (those hardly exist here, I am one of the luck few to have one, but it is small and full of concrete). I long for houses instead of apartments and un-pretentious food and drink. Some days home feels like memories of sitting under trees in large back yards and open fields with the summer heat all around, with absolutely nothing to do, but enjoy the company of the person sitting next to you.
Today home feels like photo booth photos and a phone call to my best friend.
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