No photos today, just words.
It’s often hard for me to explain to people why I love my San Francisco life. Yes, the city itself is beautiful, set in a naturally gorgeous location. Yes, the weather can be good. Yes, I live in a nice apartment, and in a nice neighborhood. But those are all just things. They’re not the whole story.
A childhood friend visited from LA this weekend. I told her that we weren’t going to do anything touristy. No Fisherman’s Wharf, no bus tours. Instead, we were just going to do the things I normally do.
*We ate a fried chicken lunch (from Little Skillet) in South Park.
*We walked around Golden Gate Park, and stumbled upon the Bay Area 2010 Yo-Yo Classics competition (who knew?) at the Bandshell (it was fantastic).
*We went to the neighborhood farmers’ market and picked up donations for next week’s kitchen swap – and for a dinner party.
*I had a dinner party in her honor, so she could meet my friends. My upstairs neighbor brought five baskets of strawberries that she and her boyfriend had picked outside Santa Cruz. Another neighbor brought two heads of butter lettuce from his garden.
*I had more bottles of wine leftover from the party than I’d bought.
*I made the most delicious – and unfancy-looking – trifle with some brioche, berries, jam and cream. Even the Frenchman raved about it (and had seconds).
My needs for friends, community, nourishment, a little bit of excitement – they’re all met. I often feel an overwhelming sense of “enoughness” about my life. Not too much, not too little. Just enough.
So I close this long weekend feeling full. I have a full life – not because of money or possessions, but because of connections and awareness. This – this – is why I love my life. What makes you love yours?