I Left My Lip Print in San Francisco
When we arrived to our vacation rental in San Francisco it was very late, 12:30 am. I saw this token of affection outside our rental apartment but assumed it was a figment of my bleary-eyed imagination.
It was not.
Here it is from my last Visible Monday post, to the right of me and the staircase:
I miss you too San Francisco and never more than when playing tourist and introducing my children to your many, many charms. The skies were crystal clear, the sun was bright, the air was cool and the dog poop politely dried on your littered sidewalks.
Kris moved to the Bay Area to go to Berkeley when he was 17 and feels most at home in Northern California. I lived there from 1999 until 2005 and despite being one of those clear-headed people who believes New York is the center of the universe, enjoyed my time immensely. Embarrassingly. And often illegally. We returned several times to visit our friends but after moving to Bermuda and having Arlo, traveling to the West Coast defied all logic despite our longing to return. This trip was a Father’s Day gift to San Francisco’s prodigal son; a present shared, a past remembered.
Is there a city or place that you identify as home, even if it isn’t where you spent your childhood?
A few pics while I ease back on the BPS horse:
Enjoy your home!