Pieces of Childhood

When going up to Oroville to visit my mom last weekend, I looked back over San Francisco as I drove out on the Bay Bridge. It’s a heavenly sight. Yes, it’s true that it’s full of buildings that worship the sky on the tip of the peninsula as little illuminated phalli, but still, it’s something else to see the wash and stretch of humanity sweep over downtown. The only thing better than this is of course seeing it again when you return. That view is even better, unobstructed from the top deck of the bridge.
Going to my childhood home reminded me of some of my first memories outside that area. My most vivid were of San Francisco and the exact same view I was seeing last Thursday. As a child it was amazing. Coming from such a small town, the size of everything was simply overwhelming. And while I’ve become adjusted to this and don’t look up when walking through the Financial District, the ever-changing nature of the City (see One Rincon Hill) will always ensure that I’ll never get bored living here.
I don’t know why it is that this particular time when leaving the City struck me so much more than others, but I suppose that after living here nearly four years, it’s starting to feel like a real home. Of course, a home where you always find a new room on a daily basis.