Do you remember the first time you fell in love? The giddy happiness of anticipation at seeing that person, at the idea the feelings might be mutual? The confidence that is gained by the knowledge that someone other than your mother thinks you might be pretty cool so you start to feel pretty cool and that coolness is reflected in the way you walk and hold your head and most off all in the smile that is never far from your lips.
Well, that is what being back in SF is like for me. It’s the first time all over again and I haven’t felt this happy in a long, long time. I can’t remember the last time I smiled all day, from wake up to jet-lagged sleep.
The sky is bluer than blue, the weather gorgeous. I found pants that fit and five pairs of really cute shoes. I found my dream blouse and some great earrings. I had my hair done and I feel as if I can be seen again. I have city hair again and it feels so good. I have washed away the soccer mom look.
I had a Starbucks latte, nonfat. Did I say nonfat because I meant nonfat. The Barista seemed to know what nonfat milk was. Not so in Starbucks in other countries that shall not be named. And I used Splenda which Starbucks provided for my convenience. Did you hear that? I said it. Con-ven-ience. I ordered a BLT from Specialties which took me all day to eat because I’m in love, baby and we all know that one cannot eat more than air when one is in love.
I had a two-hour lunch with my dad on a patio that was heated by the sun. You know that big orangey thing in the sky? Well it still exists and let me tell you, it’s warm. I had an Anchor Steam beer with an old friend and the beer was great and the conversation better.
I’ve had bad Chinese food, good Mexican, hot guac from Trader Joe’s. I had my usual pasta from Fuzio’s and iced tea is offered everywhere.
I goofed off with my brother and even threw in a wrestling match which he lost because he has spaghetti arms. I laughed so hard in Long’s Drug store I was crying.
A kid gave up his seat to me on Bart yesterday, right before it got crowded. It might have been because of my city hair or the smile I just can’t seem to lose. Or he was just a nice kid whose mother raised him right.
Now I know that this will end sadly, if not badly. I know that these last few days are not indicative of what life would be like if I moved back. I am sleeping on my brother’s sofa and driving my step-dad’s jacked-up-four-wheel-drive truck (I’m listing to hip hop in it and feel like a bad ass). I would have to provide my own if I moved back
But, like a girl in love, I am so not going to think about that. I’m just going to wear my new skinny jeans that are getting looser by the day, toss my city hair around as I giggle and strut my way through the Bay Area in three inch heels that are so easy to walk in because of a thing called a Concrete Sidewalk.
And in the last six days, other than falling in love and finding the perfect clothes, I found me again and I’m happy.