Kick of Nostalgia

Do you remember the view from the swings in Dolores Park?  This picture doesn't do it justice.  But I think it was like heaven.  When I first moved to San Francisco, there weren't there.  After a couple months, or even a whole year, they had put in a shiny new playground.  If there's one thing San Francisco can do well, it's a playground.  The swings were perfect.  They were twice as tall as normal swings and built on a hill, so when you arched upward you saw the whole city laid out before you.  Dolores Park already had the best view in town, and to let you see it while you flew.  Like I said, Heaven.

I loved living in San Francisco, even if I had a hard time finding people to love there.  It's strange.  I spent three hard years there.  Actively struggling to make it work, to find some human connection to keep me there.  Struggling and ultimately letting go.  But despite all that, I spent so much time LIVING there. Experiencing it.  Knowing it.

I was just lying in bed, trying to sleep, when out of the blue I thought of the view from the swings at Dolores.  And it was like I had been kicked in the chest; I was flooded with longing.  I wanted to be there, looking over the city again.

I can't imagine a single place or memory from L.A. that could make me feel like that.  I don't really feel like I live in L.A.  I feel like I'm staying here.  Like I'm on some extended business trip.

I always think of San Francisco like a boyfriend.  If San Francisco was someone I loved, then L.A. is the rebound.