I have packed up the car with the remainders of the fridge, a stack of
laundry, recycling, and trash. I have
gathered up some of my clothes, books, and jewelry, and Pogo is preparing to
leave too. I am about to move back to
San Francisco after spending much of the summer here in Point Reyes, off the
information grid and immersed in nature.
I linger here to jot down these few words. How sad I am to depart from this expanse of
sun and wind! To say goodbye to sitting
for long hours on the deck as I read, or worked a puzzle, or slept. To close up my little studio which I came to
appreciate too late. To leave behind the
bike path, the yoga classes, the friendships made over these past three months.
It has been an experiment in slow living, and it has been
successful. So successful, in fact, that
I question why I am returning to San Francisco and to a quickened pace and
congested traffic. There are friends
there too, of course, and I am longing to reconnect with them. I am supposed to start a new adventure – an
architecture program – in two days! But
this uprooting is hard. Was there ever a
more perfect spot than this little plot of land on the edge of our
continent?
