I was walking down the street a few days ago and San Francisco was above me. We were eyeing each other occasionally, trying to do so without notice. I’m not sure what we decided.
But I figured it out. I feel like I’ve been set up on this blind date. San Francisco and I have been thrust together and we’re sitting across the table from each other trying desperately to be polite. Every now and then one or the other of us makes a comment.
“I like art.”
“Oh, yeah? Me, too.”
Silence and a slow glance around the room.
“I have beaches.”
“Great. I love beaches.”
Awkward sip of water.
I mean, we really have a lot in common. We’re both attractive people. I’m pretty sure we’re going to hit it off. But right now I’m still at the beginning portion of the evening where I’m not sure I wouldn’t be having more fun at home in my sweats in front of the TV.
It’s just going to take us a little while to get to know each other.
And maybe that’s how she likes it, being a mystery. There’s something temperamental in the way she poured rain this morning, changed her mind and favored us all with sunshine before a mood took her again and the fog came in like a many furrowed brow.
I can dig it. I was a little volatile myself today.
You see, I’m pinging slowly off the walls of my apartment back and forth without an anchor. I have no table. There’s no place to sit and write, put my tea, or lay my sketchbook open where I can come back to it periodically. I’m here, but my art supplies are still in boxes. I’m still in boxes.
As we walked today there were open garages. In one, a man was brushing a dark stain over three beautiful handmade wooden benches. In another, a man was feeding giant fish in a tank. Talents and passions consigned there, to the space below where life happens. Is that how it’s going to have to be, living my largeness in the crannies of a garage, in the corners of a two bedroom apartment?
How much beauty like this does San Francisco have secreted away in cracks and crevices? How much lies waiting beneath me, under all this day-to-day living? Perhaps I’ll stop daydreaming about my comfy socks and DVR recordings and give this blind date a try, maybe order another drink.