When I was younger, I used to say that I wanted to live in a place where people went on their honeymoon. I didn’t have an exact place in mind, It just made sense in my head to live in that place and not just visit it.
Ok, clearly that was youthful idealization because location doesn’t create happiness…I know that now. However, before old age wisdom set in, I did move to San Francisco in part for that reason. I moved here at the tail end of its old school chicness and well before the dot com boom was a thing.
22 years and nearly half my life later I am still here. It’s not the same city I moved to Like everything in life, change happens. Every year it’s a little more crowded and a little more expensive. Still, people come from around the world and ride the tourist bus to see the new Bay and the places that gave birth to Google, Twitter and Uber. Its cosmopolitan and bohemian at the same time.
I often think about leaving. Perhaps going closer to family, somewhere less congested, slower paced. But there is something that itches in my mind, the sense that if I go, eventually I’ll want to come back. Like a long term relationship asking me not to give up on it yet.
Then I have beautiful view days like this and I think, “ah yes.” Like the song plays, “it calls to me.”