Thursday, February 09, 2006

Oh, dear

Today was one of those brilliantly sunny days that San Francisco can have in February to remind you that "winter" here has a different definition than it does in some other parts of the country.

Nutmeg and I drove over to Kaymommy's and Eliot's and we all went to Dolores Park. I was actually a little too warm in my jeans and long-sleeved tee. We moms regretted not carrying sunscreen for the babies due to the date on the calendar.

That's when I realized: I love it here. This is a bittersweet feeling as Epu and I (mostly Epu) are pressing hard to arrange an employement situation elsewhere. In the first few years here, I felt like a zombie because I couldn't recognize any seasons. The first three years felt like one long one.

Now, the seasons seem so distinct that I can't remember why I was confused. It doens't hurt that this has been a pretty dry, if chilly, winter. I love being able to go skiing on winter weekends. And I never really realized how many warm, sunny days we had here until I started staying home from work part time, because even on a hot day, you usually need a jacket in the morning and evening, going to and from work.

I must be coming down with a case of sentimental fever, because tonight even this tiny apartment looks like something I'll hate to say goodbye to.


Kori said...

Even if you do move, if you're like me, you'll go through a mourning period for your old home. I sometimes think of DC as this kind of utopia, especially when I think of the springtime, or the sunny days, or all the parks and vistas I passed to and from work everyday. But now, I have enough good feelings about Chicago to start to crowd out the nostalgia.

As I was leaving Provence after my year abroad, I sat on the plane from Marseille to Paris crying. It had taken me 3-4 months to stop being homesick for America, but by the end of my year, Provence had etched a place on my heart, and I couldn't believe I would be leaving the plain trees, the cafes, the bread, the walks through old streets, the constant sunshine, the southern French attititude about life---how could I ever be happy in Wisconsin again?

Then I realized, that's the curse, but the blessing, of living and learning to love different places. Sure, I could never be COMPLETELY happy in any one place anymore---France didn't have my family, while Wisconsin didn't have, well, wine and cheese and bread and coffee and good living (yes, it has these things, but you know what I mean.) But the blessing was, although I couldn't have everything in any one place, I discovered I could be happy in all kinds of places---that there are special sweetnesses to the identity of every city I would live, and I just had to find those and add them to my life, and I could feel joy.

In a world as small as the one we live in now, with the kind of job climate our generation shares---no one expects to get a retirement watch at 30 years service, we're much too mobile---it's a great gift to be able to find the wonder and beauty of every place you live. I'm so glad you have done that for San Francisco---it is a gem, and now it's part of you.

Carrie said...

I'm usually not like that. I remember on the day of junior high school graduation, when I looked around and a bunch of girls were crying. I thought, what the hell are they crying about? We are getting out of here and going somewhere new and exciting and hopefully less tortuous.

And I couldn't wait to get the hell out of Paris.

But the Bay Area is such a great place to live in so many ways. Except that earthquake thing. And our family isn't here. And we can't afford to move into a real house or a nice neighborhood.

Kori said...

Well, some places aren't worth being sentimental, I'm afraid. It's smart to be selective!

And I'm sorry about Paris. I could see how that year, in particular, could have lacked some sentimental charm. What with your friends coming up to visit from the South, then vomitting all over the Monoprix. Yeah, that's pretty gross, and I'd try to strike all memory of it. :)

Bert said...

My dear, you will be sorely missed by all of us die-hard Bay Area people you're leaving behind. Just know, you can always come stay with me. I'll try to get it together and actually own a house, at some point. That way, your soon-to-be-larger family will enjoy their own bathroom while relaxing at my place.