To sit in Chrissy Field with a Presidio set as my backdrop, the Golden Gate Bridge drenched in fog on the left, Alcatraz powerful in the North. To stand on the tip of the Headlands, yards from that same rust colored bridge, watching sailboats ride in the wake of cruise ships, the sun casting its blinding glow across the water to the Bay Bridge. To enter Marin, cruise controlling down the Waldo Grade, and see Mill Valley tucked into the Bay, water from every angle. To drive 25 miles per hour and never consider pressing down on the gas. To walk down quiet neighborhood slopes, past girls kicking soccer balls and dads swinging tennis rackets as the sun sets purple above their heads. To arrive on a dock that rises and falls with the bay that laps at its mossy planks and watch the city glitter in the distance.
To wind through vendors selling anything from Obama screen t's to potpourri, through tourists with foot long lenses, through the swaying tails of decorated horses and their loud mouth owners, and arrive in front of a dance crew sweating the afternoon away. To leave the hustle and bustle of the city, the smells and sounds of the people that surround the chicken kabob cart on 59th and 5th and collapse in front of a silent pond, positioned just so there's no skyscraper in sight. To go from Canal Street handbag saleswomen to Madison Avenue wasps in ten minutes flat. From crowded sidewalks to boys in knee socks, from downtown to uptown and back in time for dollar beers and tacos.
Life is long and I am young...I'm sure the tale won't end until I have written many more city chapters. But today, I smile to think of where I have been and what more I will do. I know my heart well, and what it feels like when it yearns for something. I listen. This love affair is just getting started.