Going to San Francisco

I'm going to a seminar in San Francisco next month. I grew up in the Bay Area but my folks never took us kids there. I haven't been to the city since John Borton took me sightseeing there in 1984.

I had just finished college. I remember I wore a sleeveless blue gingham dress with gingham frills around the neck and armholes. I enjoyed looking feminine and tried to look my best that day. John took me up in a helicopter and we flew over the whole bay. It was a sunny clear day and so incredibly beautiful. I used to wish more than anything that I had not come back to Colorado; that I had stayed in California with John to see how things worked out.

Now my daughter's at the language school in Monterey and I'm going to a seminar in San Francisco. I get to see her and I get to see the city. I'm sitting in front of my computer, looking at the place on Google Maps and crying for the beauty of my childhood and for the love that didn't happen.

Forgive me, dear reader, for the silliness of this post. I honestly wouldn't change my life, not anymore. I've finally learned to let things be. The main point today is: I get to go to San Francisco!