Moving Back to California
Missouri, as much as I have tried, is trouble for me.
Sunset greets my approach into San Francisco. To the west, a deep pelmet of cloud, edges burned orange as the Pacific Ocean kisses the ocean goodnight.
Crossing the Golden Gate Bridge, twilight softening on the headlands, I wanted to call out: I love you! Come home! Come for a beautiful walk, but she won’t, not until we meet in Colorado for our grandchild’s 3rd birthday.
I must make the home ready to receive my love.
This monstrous frenzy of love never quits. I swear, I could mass battalions, gleaming in silver, join with the armies of St. Cloud and march on God for an explanation.
Instead, I walk down from the house, sit on a wooden bench in Sausalito, looking across the Bay to Frisco, eat chocolate, listen to music, and wait three days to put her back into my arms, into my life, and into my heart.
These hills of Tiburon are not hills at all, but the sweep of her neck, the ridges of her shoulder blades, the hollow of her low back, and the roundness of her loins, rising and falling.
Damn San Francisco, The Cirque de Frisco, the Tesla driving tech-knights of the corporate world, living in their multi-bedroom castles protected from reality by wrought iron gates, dancing a farce of a life inside elegant woes.
My heart would be content to live in one room, high above Sausalito, or beyond Mendocino, a room with no escape, alone inside the beating walls of her heart.
What impulse pushes me to fly home early?
I get frustrated, mad as a dog, calling out in wild desperation. I remember the times I made this journey more than twenty years ago, eager to joust with tech-knights for her affection, running with her on the white beaches of Ibiza, sailing her away under the sun, and talking of magic.
But today there is no magic.
Only a fallen knight.
Suzie, my trusty Latino housekeeper, greets my arrival. Her round face full of kindness. I sit down to an enormous tortilla omelet, and feel cared for, home from the Missouri war.
Hey, this might be of some interest. If you would like to join Medium as a Member, giving you access to every story I write, and the whole shebang of talented writers on Medium, and you want to join up, read, or earn yourself a few coins writing, please think about using this LINK to become a member. Cost $5. You’ll be gifting me a cup of coffee, and treating yourself to the wonderland of Medium.com💜✍️
