Today I awoke to the sound of a pair of parrots. Their voices have become distinct to me, and I recognize them from the other birds who fly near here. Their squawks fill the air with a near demand to be heard. They are wild, so they say no words.
They have become a comfort. When the parrots are around I am reminded of all that is wonderful here. And different. Over time the differences have become little rafts to which I cling. Wild parrots, boys making out in the park, people openly smoking pot on the streets, the wind whipping through alleyways, skyscrapers that pierce through blue, the consistency of car horns, taxiing to and fro, sidewalks that turn into staircases, water on all three sides, walking everywhere I go, bike messengers, slides in the middle of hilly neighborhoods–these are all tiny salvations, reminders that I’m right where I want to be.
I want to visit, but I don’t want to go home.
6 comments ↓
I can’t blame you for wanting to stay right where you are. San Francisco is filled with wonderment. I could picture almost everything you described, and it makes me want to be back there so bad. Soak it in for all of us who are stuck somewhere that’s not there.
I want pictures of the slides!
i miss your so much it hurts,live life to the fullest, love the newness of everything thats around you but what ever you do be safe, be kind, and be home soon dad
This is the sort of thing that could make me hate you for being where I want to be while I’m stuck where you were.
I’m glad at least one of us gets to be there.
Aw, Dad. I read your comment in the middle of the train station where I promptly burst into tears.
I love and miss you, too. So, so much.
Great post. Sometimes I forget how much and why I love it here. It’s hard to see things with new eyes. So I appreciate this.
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