One Woman Revival

Often coming home after a trip brings on a melancholy simply called the “post vacation blues”. But after a recent visit to New York City, what I felt was akin to being homesick. My stint in the big apple was brief and long past, just a year and half more than a decade ago. But that place carries an importance to me, not just because I met my late husband there, but it was also where my adult identity solidified. It was the first time I was truly independent from my parents, living by myself. And in a strange way, it is as if the city represents a timeline where I continued to be on my own.

I lived in Queens, Astoria technically, and worked in Chelsea. Rode the subway into Manhattan each day and stayed out too late so often hailed a cab back. After I met my husband, his job took us to London then eventually to Boston. Now when I go back to both those cities, it’s like he is there next to me, or walking just a few feet behind. But he is not in New York City, though he lived there for many years before I moved there. I find memories of him and our courtship tucked away in corners of the sprawling metropolis but the person walking beside me is my 25-year-old self in her navy blue peacoat, exuberant and in charge of her destiny.

Back in my apartment in San Francisco, I wonder if I am still that young lady. She felt like a new summer dress while I am the faded pair of jeans with a backstory. Determined to prove I could still have adventures, I decided to walk to the Ferry Building from SOMA after work. I huffed at a New York pace to a seafood bar called Hog Island Oysters. There I slurped four dressed oysters, attired in kimchi sauce, seaweed flakes and sesame seeds. I also tried the abalone ceviche, which had the texture of soft leather doused in a tangy jalapeño vinaigrette. For the sake of wine pairing, I downed a glass of California rose and a dry Spanish white verdejo.

Then I marched back to SOMA unsure of exactly what I had hoped to accomplish on this outing. I stopped at a fish sculpture that had just been installed on the Pier, its metal scales glimmering when it caught the sun. I did not know why my journey had brought me here, but no one knows what is truly meant to be.