I am at the point in my planned relocation to North Carolina where I’m marking my remaining time in the San Francisco Bay Area in weeks, even days.
Today I sent my property manager notification of my intended departure date (we had talked previously about my plan to move, so it will not be a surprise). As I had given notice at my job nearly two months ago, with this notification I have completely let go of this life in the Bay Area.
Before I sent my notice to my property manager today, I was thinking about it and, quite unsurprisingly, felt some jitters in my gut. After all, I’m letting go of “security”. It’s kind of daunting until I realized that none of this belongs to me anymore.
As I wrote the letter I noticed that those jitters had gone away and I wondered if they would reappear as I got closer to hitting “Send”.
I sent the notice hours ago: still no jitters.
I find myself in a strange limbo where I’ve released the bar I’ve held onto for nearly a quarter of a century—the bar that is no longer mine—so that I can reach for the next bar that the Universe is sending for me.
Now that we’re half way through summer, the days are getting shorter and I’m starting to see the sunrise again each morning, as I wait for the ferry.
Last Wednesday there was a crazy reflection of the rising sun off of some of the buildings in San Francisco. The rose-gold was stunning, though neither my phone camera nor this point-and-shoot could do it the proper justice.
(Bonus appearance by @KarlTheFog, stretching an arm across the skyline.)
The following morning, I caught the sun rising up over the Oakland Hills. I’m not sure what tall sail ship they’re working on next door (I don’t think it’s the Balclutha, as I’ve heard it is still in its usual spot over by Fishermen’s Wharf), but I liked the look of it (and my beloved AT-AT cranes) against the sunrise.
For most of us, it is nearly impossible to envision the Golden Gate–that area of the San Francisco Bay where it joins up with the Pacific Ocean–without the majestic presence of the Golden Gate Bridge (the bridge took her name from the location, not the other way around). Still, it just seems like she was always meant to be in that very spot, and just bided her time until humans evolved enough to be able to help her rise.
In my nearly quarter century of living in the Bay Area, I’ve crossed the bridge on foot only a few times, but every trip has left me wondering why I don’t make that trek more often.
By crossing the bridge slowly on foot, instead of racing across by car, my senses get to savor much of what I love here: the delicious brine of the air with an occasional hint of eucalyptus, the way seasons seem to change hourly, watching all kinds of sea and shore life from porpoises to pelicans, hearing dozens of different languages spoken as I pass fellow travelers, observing the busy ship and ferry traffic. And then there is the absolute wonder of the structure itself: the intricate patterns of the rivets, and how it feels alive, when I feel the vibrations through the cables.
Happy Birthday, Beautiful Lady! May you watch over the San Francisco Bay for many many more years to come.
Today is International Women’s Day, a day on which the organizers of the Women’s March called for a strike. I elected to withhold our labor today. Instead, I attended rallies at San Francisco City Hall and at Justin Herman Plaza. It was beautiful to be in such great energy.
We live in a time where straight white men who have too much societal power routinely dehumanize people of color, LGBTQ, immigrants, and women. We have to come together to fight to have our humanity recognized.