Fog

I've been back from San Francisco for a few days now, but I still find myself daydreaming about the visit, drifting back to the Cool Grey City Of Love. I've been second-guessing my decision to move to New York City since day one of my arrival here. For the first year or so, I started every morning by logging into SFGate.com and gazing wistfully at the live cam of the morning traffic jam on the Bay Bridge. Pathetic.

On the day I was leaving SF in 2001, I kept telling Dougie that I had changed my mind. "I don't want to go! I'm staying. I take it back." Dougie just nodded his wan smile and said, "Honey, you don't have a place to live here anymore. You've moved out of your house. It's too late. You have to go now." I often wonder how my life would be if I had really taken it back, had stayed. Lately I've been telling friends that I could fill three books with stories about my life in San Francisco, those 5 years and 9 months. I've been in New York City for 5 years and 6 months now....and I feel like my life story here could be told on a single page. Double-spaced. And you would skim.

What is it about San Francisco that so completely possesses one's spirit? If one tries to dispassionately tick off a list of The City's attributes, by the third or fourth item you've moved into glazed-over, mush-mouthed, non-quantifiable superlatives. This was the first visit back for me that wasn't completely drowned in sorrow, my first visit since I left that wasn't attached to a dreadful event, neccessitating a suit being packed, rather than flannel. This visit was completely for joy. My friends are well, employed, and happy. Some of them are in love. Again. And yet, I can't shake this melancholy. I'll try not to look at the live SF cams for the rest of day. It won't be easy.

Her sea is a voice that calls,
And her star a voice above,
And her wind a voice on her walls--
My cool, grey city of love
. - George Sterling