I do not yearn for more days to “explore” San Francisco.
Because the San Francisco that matters to me most is within me always. It lives in morning walks to b. patisserie with Joan and Bin. In a slow roll down Fillmore with Joan to catch a matinee showing of Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. It lives in late nights on the couch on Broadway, the thwack of tennis racquets reverberating quietly from the TV as Mark, Nicky, Joan, Bin, and I laugh hysterically in unison. It lives in bringing Izak and Nicky to stay with us at Joan & Bin University. In meeting Izak’s dad Roger for breakfast and chuckling at the utter confusion on his face as he learns that “Tom and Mark’s friends” are 3 and 6 decades older than expected. It lives in learning about Fernet Branca after an SF Jazz show. It lives in street theater and walking up hills as Joan rides by on the bus. It lives in freshly squeezed orange juice and butterflies on the fireplace. It lives in introducing Kat to Joan and Bin and hearing their laughter carry through the closed door as I study research papers to prepare for a new job. It lives in Firefly and Tony’s and shoes slipped onto the wrong feet. It lives in millionaire’s bacon and Outside Lands and music drifting out the window and over the hills towards the Bay. It lives in the wind across the Tunnel Tops, a seal-filled brunch, and a final weekend of slowing walks and hearty laughs. And now, eight months later, it lives in drives across the Golden Gate Bridge to watch with Bin in Sausalito as the Dodgers win the World Series. In a sunny Saturday well-spent relaxing for a patio brunch and viewing every possible angle of the Golden Gate Bridge, culminating as both Bin and I spread our lips ear to ear, giddy from finding new views of the bridge through holes in the walls of Fort Minor. It lives in a shifting wind bringing a certain scent to nose, a surprise left turn onto a familiar street, and an Amazon Hub locker placed carelessly on the speckled tile of an old San Francisco walk-up, each reminding me of Joan (that’s Joan’s scent, I remember going there once, Joan would’ve hated that and we would’ve laughed about it for hours creating more and more ridiculous stories of how it was placed there and how the residents have responded and what we would have done in response). So yes, I am content with this time spent in San Francisco, however abbreviated it’s become. Because this city lives on within me, like my friendship with Joan Grayson.
For Joan. I love you.
