I am crazy about this city. Like an ecstatic love affair, I cannot begin to explain the reasons I am drawn to it, or why I am called to stand amidst its daily ebb and flow. But I can say this much: The sound of a taxi blowing its horn revives me. The constant hum of city traffic soothes my wearied head like a grown-up’s lullaby.
There are little Christmas lights everywhere, no matter the season. They scallop across the Bay Bridge at night and make me feel as though life were a constant holiday. Which, it is.
The tall buildings stand like gentle giants around me and under such towering heights I feel safe. They are a magnificent testament to the achievements of human engineering, yet they remind me of God.
I peddle hard on my stationary bicycle, but it is not until I watch an old trolley car roll past that my heart really begins to pound. It beats with an aching life and feels like a nostalgia that I am knowing for the first time.
There is so much to take in here. One district twists and turns into the next. Downtown storefronts wind into Chinatown lamps with light that spills over to the flavors of Italian cooking, all in an afternoon’s stroll. Its wonders are vast, but not too large for these feet of mine to tread. When I drive up and down the city’s hills it is as if every trip is roller-coaster ride, and I throw my hands and spirit up for the thrill of it all.
The city is not shy. She lets me know just how disappointed she is that I am leaving. I know, because now she hums, dips, towers, and shines brighter than ever. She knows she is beautiful and that I am a fool for leaving. I try to tell her about another kind of light that I am chasing within- the one that ignites when I draw near the people I love. There is a bridge within my own heart, leading me back home, along the way of endless Christmas lights. That, she understands.
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