It’s beginning to sink in. What am I going to miss?
Casa Sanchez’s Totopos. Acme Levain. Anchor on tap everywhere. Walking down to Capricorn Coffee on 10th for a fresh pound and a smile. 1058 Hoagies. Tomasso’s, Pi, and Arinell. Latin American Club, Spec’s, The Attic. Breaking into that private Russian Hill garden with the clearest jasmine-scented view of the Bay. Literally missing seeing Low at GAMH by a few hours, Sigur Ros by a couple weeks. That I used to commute by Cable Car. Throwing firecrackers at drunken couples arguing under my fire escape after the bars let out in Polk Gulch. Vowing to quit smoking after getting winded hiking up from Baker Beach, and staying quit. Watching hawks circle Pomeranians in Sutro Park, and the turtles of Stow Lake craning their beaky faces toward the sun behind the fog.
Until I’m gone, I won’t know the bone-aching love for my friends, who have become my family, who have made the last 15 years of my life the sweetest and luckiest, despite all those bitter and unlucky things that I can barely recall. You know who you are, friends—you have helped make both this realm and the city a better place.
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