Yesterday was the perfect day in the neighborhood. The sidewalks were empty, the streets were quiet. Not a rumble around. It seemed like the entire neighborhood was mine. Today, it’s all back to normal.
People are walking aimlessly and paying no attention to the other people on the street. Not walking, slowly strolling. Not paying attention, particularly to the little old lady using a walker to get down the icy streets she’s known since she arrived off the boat 80 years ago.
I long for somewhere else.
I miss the sound of the sun setting in Selema, Portugal over the cliff rocks and the slow pour of a Chianti from a sidewalk cafe in Rome. If I close my eyes I can see the bright lights of Paris and the whitewashed buildings of Morocco. I miss the sunsrise over the Bay Bridge in San Francisco. It’s time to travel again…
