I just came back last Fri from 2 weeks on the West Coast. I didn't want to leave! It is so beautiful and breathtaking out there. There are no mosquitoes. The people are amazing -- warm, funky, open-minded, generous, kind and yet sophisticated. It's like Iowa met Brooklyn and they all moved to the South of France together. Oh and the food is mind-blowing.
Still it all feels very emotional and just just for me -- for my family, several of whom called me before, during and after the trip for play-by-play updates. For my friends here who are sad and angry I am leaving (or don't really care -- there's that too). And for my friends there, including my best friend from high school Marc, who was the first person I called from the hospital when my father finally died from his bad (or perhaps was it just too good) heart.
That was in the bad days before cell phones and I called information from a pay phone. Then I called the school and held myself together long enough to tell our receptionist why I needed them to pull Marc out of class so he could talk to me. I can't remember what he said exactly and couldn't have told you then either. All I know is that he helped give me the strength to return and comfort in turn the family members that were starting to arrive at the hospital.
Anyway, I've known Marc longer than I haven't known him now. We know each other's families well and though we haven't seen our respective family units for awhile, we always share news of how they are and what hijinks they are up to now. And it's so funny to see how we've changed since we first met when we were 13 and how much of who we are, fundamentally, has not. I have always liked his friends too and I feel fortunate beyond words that they and so many other lovely friends await me in SF.
Still that makes leaving all the more bittersweet since there are so many people I care about deeply here on this side of the country. I am grateful to have some transition time though this is not easy.
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