Losing a grip on the fog and the grip on the City skyline I forgot about my years in SF. Last weekend I was there again, basking in the gloriousness of music and City sounds. Cafe Du Nord has always been my favorite venue in San Francisco. Once a speakeasy in the 1920s, one descends a red-carpeted staircase to another world of opulent red walls and a deep mahogany bar. There was an amber warmth to the lighting and I felt a sense of homecoming. Everything seemed somehow smaller than it was in my imagination. It had been almost ten years since I was below the City street to see a band, and what a band to see!
The Ocean Blue have always held a place of nostalgic tenderness in my heart and seeing them once more after 12 years was truly sweet. Those fragile spider's web thick with dew-drop jewels of memories cling to my heart. For all its misty frailty, the memory pierces. It holds your heart. It warms your heart. Music that enchanted me as a younger girl entrances my mind and I feel a wholeness and a healing.
It is impossible to truly explain what home means, but San Francisco was such a place for many years. I saw not the times of loneliness and confusion. Or if I did, the loneliness and confusion took on a gleaming hue because feeling those things in your 20s is unlike any other time. As the plane drifted up I looked back through my window, touched my fingers to my lips and blew the City a kiss. I will always love you.
Back in the sun of Orange County, summer's easy embrace has opened her arms again. Our skin will be kissed by the gold of the sun. Our clothes slip off our skin with ease, muscles tighten and release in the thick, warm balm of night.
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