if i can make it there.
Racing along the edge…the shore of the Bay facing San Francisco as the sun set. It was the best I could do…I didn't have the time I thought I would this one Saturday. But I had so much to do…and to finally get myself to the shore well that would mean I'd have a handful of minutes to myself…minutes that weren't spent with a list of chores and demands…distractions from the inevitable…things I HAD to close out before everything would just be different. So I raced but then I heard my Dad. He told me to slow down – that I was always in a hurry. I could hear him say that he had a few things we should discuss. So I stood there. Waiting for him to say whatever it is he was going to say. I never listened to him. But this time I would. I looked out onto the water and I imagined what he would say, "Big Time". We faced the water and he said, "This is no longer the Bay. It's the Hudson and that is Manhattan over there. You can do it, Susan. Then he sang New York, New York like when I was a kid…"If you can make it there, you'll make it anywhere." That's all he said to me and then the tears wouldn't stop. Maybe I'm just scared…but I also realized in that instant that it's times like these I told him one time that I wished he were going to be here. That I was sad he was going to miss this. I stood there on this edge and imagined New York City. Right now it stands for every thought I've had over the last 10 years about how work should actually work. It is this life I have built for myself these last few years that I leave behind. I wonder if I can start over again like I have done so many times? I wonder what it will be like to not be able to ride my bike every day? I wonder what I'll do without the circle of people who have raised me up so that I could actually function amongst the living? I wonder if I will be well? These kinds of questions haven't consumed me in the last months I've known I was leaving for New York. Instead, I just did everything in my power to do ALL those things…Ride my bike up into the hills. Call on the people who have helped me get to right here and tell them what they mean to me. They think I'm coming back. I think I'm coming back. I want to believe I'm coming back. But each time I got on my bike over the last month up until the last time – now exactly one week ago, I rode it as if it was my last ride up in those hills…like I was never going to ride up in those hills again. The sun shined down on me knowing that it was just what I needed… sun, friends and my bike…and sometimes a few cookies I baked up for them for after.
Look at the time. I need to get back to the chores. I had one hour. I took it. Now it's back to the reality of closing up my house and never ending lists of chores so I could get to visiting with friends – such good friends…friends I never imagined I'd find or have in my life.
It's an adventure I'm headed towards. It's a different edge I'll sit on. It's an unfamiliar view. Everything will be new and different. I am hopeful but uncertain. I am thankful for the hand that reached out to pull me into New York…but sad…it's a heavy kind of sad. My heart…at least a big part of it…will always be in San Francisco. I will come back for it…my heart.