Chasing Pavement ~ Placer County, California, July 16, 2019
Chasing Pavement ~ Placer County, California, July 16, 2019
Another Wednesday in San Francisco. I sit alone with my book and notepad (per usual), and a cold glass of white wine. First sip tells me it’s too sweet to be the Sauvignon I ordered. Maybe a Pinot. Apparently I drink on Wednesday afternoons now. The only condolence I offer myself after this thought is: at least these days I drink to celebrate life, not to escape it.
I look around at all the “well-to-dos” and with a hint of imposter syndrome I find myself wondering: “why am I like this?” Then the thought is quickly dismissed by: “well, you like good food, you’re self made AND self sufficient, so why not?” No need for further analyzing. We get older, our tastes change, as do our expectations; with the opposite sex, our friendships, the food we eat, the jobs we acquire, our quality of life….the list goes on. Just means we are evolving. I can deal with that.
My perfectly garnished plate of Fusilli arrives. They say carbs are the enemy….I say send yours my way.
The waiter approaches me and makes a comment about it being refreshing to see someone writing, pen to paper, not fiddling with their phone. I do plenty of the latter…but back to the point. The written word amazes me. Reading soothes me, transports me, and moves me to write. Words connect people. Reading and writing in public has afforded me some of the best interactions of my life.
I’m 32 years old. I read, I write, I eat too many carbs, and I often laugh too loud. I love who I am…I wouldn’t change me for the world.
I’ll never forget the way the rain fell that night…angled straight toward me and unforgiving. And yet I walked those four blocks back to the parking garage as if I were stopping to smell a rose at every business entrance lining that bustling San Francisco street. It was truly one of those moments where you know undoubtedly your life is about to change in a big way. Everything was more vivid: the sights, the smells, even each breath a little deeper. I felt as if the past five years of my life had been leading up to this.
Shortly after that momentous night, I heard this quote. A quote that had I heard a year prior, would not have carried the same weight:
“When opportunity comes, it’s too late to prepare.”
Rewind back five years to early 2014. A 20 something girl with a fresh love for the city and pipe dreams of walking up to some high rise building in the financial district and securing a job for a venture capital company. Lining up interviews there and wondering if I’d even have enough money for parking. But that didn’t stop me. I now know I wasn’t ready then, but that dreamer mentality that threw caution and common sense to the wind…that was what would eventually lead me here.
Amber always says “everything in life happens for a reason”. It’s a common saying, but I don’t know that it truly resonated with me before this past year of my life. So many things having fallen into place, even if preceded by sadness, heartache, and temporary loss of direction.
What started out as a fancy girls night in the city, ended up being my ticket to a better life. Everything orchestrated perfectly, in hindsight.
Anyone that knows me, knows I love live music. And of all the times I’d been to San Francisco, I had never visited the Black Cat Club, a famous jazz spot in the Tenderloin. On a whim, I bought tickets to a Saturday night show, hoping I could convince Amber to join me, despite her prearranged trip to Lake Tahoe that weekend. As fate would have it, there was a snowstorm near Tahoe which deterred her trip. So off to the city we went.
I had my heart set on us having dinner at Morton’s, a swanky steak house in Union Square. I had been there a handful of times previously, but none as memorable as this would prove to be. As we sat at the bar giggling and talking about dreams of future vacations, sipping sangria and indulging in the buttery lobster plated in front of us….I turned my attention to the quiet man seated next to me. He was sipping his red wine and as soon as he opened his mouth, he revealed a thick Irish accent. A conversation ensued, and as it turns out, he was a local business owner of almost 30 years. What his business needed, I had to offer. Amber urged me to get his business card, because as was often our motto: why not?
The next morning I had a bit of hesitation in reaching out to the man we met at the bar. I wasn’t sure it was a realistic pursuit. After all, I wasn’t actually looking for a job. But, I wasn’t happy with the one I had either. In fact, I’d felt for quite some time that where I was in life, specifically my career, was draining the excitement and creativity from me. Then all of a sudden that 20 something girl showed up in my heart, and I clicked SEND.
Six days later on a Friday afternoon, I sat upstairs at a hotel bar, downing a vodka soda for liquid courage and jotting down my questions for the impending interview just across the street in Union Square. The office was just steps away from the Sir Francis Drake hotel, a hotel I had stayed at in times past and that housed the famous Starlight Room with stellar views of the city. I remember looking out those windows on many carefree nights in awe.
That evening after the interview, it rained. I let my hair and clothes get drenched. It didn’t matter. Nothing could kill my excitement at that moment. I had just been offered the opportunity of a lifetime (at least my life thus far), and I knew now that I was READY. All of the knowledge gained, the experiences, the disappointments, the changes of direction, the thirst for more in the past five years…were pointing me to this.
As I sit here at my desk, staring down from the 21st floor of this well known high rise in San Francisco and listening to the cable cars go by below…there’s a rainbow in the distance. I feel like I’m home. For the first time in a long time, I am exactly where I am meant to be.
It’s that time of year again. December. Not only your birthday month, but the time of year notorious for families gathering. Yet another harsh reminder of your absence.
I often get stuck on the idea of stories needing a happy ending. Not grief. In fact, I’m not sure grief has an ending at all. Sure, some things become more bearable. But there are still those dates, those occasions when the sting feels fresh. Even some unexplainable times of year when you are suddenly acutely aware of that pain being just below the surface. Then you catch yourself subconsciously tucking it down, suppressing it to avoid the almost inevitable overspill of emotion that will erupt if you don’t.
The end of a year, yet another year accepting this reality. The pain from a life lost knows nothing of time.
It’s 11pm on a Tuesday night in late November. I lie wide awake with my mind whirling , as has become my norm in the past few weeks. The only thing quieting my frazzled thoughts is the subtle snore coming from my eight year old snuggled next to me. Yes, I know I shouldn’t be letting him sleep in my bed, but as I look at his little face, so soft and peaceful…I know these moments are few and fleeting and that soon enough they’ll be a thing of the past. In this moment I feel enveloped with gratitude, that I get to be his Mom; their Mom. That the one thing I’m doing right, is loving them.
On a personal level, this hasn’t been the best year. Not the worst year by any means….but certainly not the best. And the older I get, the more I recognize that stagnancy is almost worse than turmoil, than affliction. Because what often stems from the latter two is perspective; whereas the other tends to lead to a place of mediocrity of mind and soul.
I’ve so much healing yet to do and growing and brainstorming, it’s often overwhelming. But as this year comes to a close, I try to make peace with all of the things that didn’t come to fruition; with all of the times I misjudged and made decisions that didn’t flow with the current of my life, that led me upstream then back where I started…..and I forgive myself. Because sometimes that is truly all you can do. Love yourself enough to forgive.
This year has, however, brought me much closer to my boys; my heartbeats. Even on days I’ve felt like a complete failure, I closed my eyes at night knowing those little humans felt loved and happy and content. And that is everything. For them I am grateful and I am blessed.
In the coming year, my wish is to be the best version of myself not only for me, but for the little souls I’m guiding through this crazy thing called life.
Wall art in all its glory (Alberta Arts District, Portland, OR ~ November 2017)
I watch in amusement as the squirrely, tattooed driver (with an apparent love of country music) bobs up and down in his seat on the old, rugged school bus. The humid Texas air is whipping through my unforgiving hair. Bandera, Texas to be exact. A town I never even knew existed before this day in late July.
We make a quick turn onto yet another dirt road before the bus comes to an abrupt halt. The driver hops up and leads all of us eager passengers out of the bus before unloading the large blue tubes that will serve as our transportation for the next two hours down the Medina River.
The water is unusually low this summer, which is somewhat of a blessing for our particular group of inexperienced “tubers”, but unfortunate for our feet, which would end up propelling us through part of our course.
After our sloppy decent down the embankment and into the warm, shallow water….we began to find our groove (if I’m being generous). As I situated myself in my tube enough to find a happy medium between relaxed and efficient, I looked forward at the long stretch of still water, and then up. All I could see were rows and rows of tall, charming Cypress trees lining and hovering over the river, with peaks of sunlight flooding through. No sounds but the trickling of the water through the rocks and the slight brush of the trees.
In the day’s leading up to this excursion, my son’s and I spent a lot of time in San Antonio; a city with no shortage of people and things to do. This was the biggest vacation to date I have taken with the boys, including their first airplane flight, to visit my Sister in her new location.
If you have kids, you know that family vacation’s are a wonderful time to build memories, but also a lot of work. But in that moment, on the river tucked away from everything mainstream and distracting….all we had to do was float. Just float and move forward at our own pace.
And sometimes, that is all our soul needs.