Living across the country from those nearest and dearest to you has its challenges. My friend laments because no longer can (or, should I say, kindly will) he call to wake me up at 7am most mornings. Keeping in touch with my parents is similarly difficult; I talk to my Mom on the way to work and it’s only because she’s somewhat of a night owl that I don’t feel too guilty calling before MY bedtime. (Yes, that’s right, I go to bed before my Mom does most nights, even with the 3 hour time delay. Pathetic, I know.) But beyond the conversations it’s the assimilation that I miss, the last-minute Sunday dinners at my friend Todd’s house or our girl’s card night with Lels, Dana and Beth. I miss MDR (My Darling Roommate for those of you newer to the site) endlessly playing poker and eating dry, uncooked spinach with Rotisserie chicken and garbanzo beans on top, and I even miss my over-commitments, rushing late to a Junior League meeting while simultaneously threatening to quit it once and for all. And, as illogical as it may be, I miss being a part of my friends’ lives who never even lived in Atlanta, feel an unjustified sense of being left out as they play trivia or eat bad East Coast sushi or even hit the beach bars. I left the South willingly, excited about the new life ahead of me and not at all disillusioned what a difference 4000 miles would make. And yet it’s not the mere miles, nor the time difference, that makes me the saddest – it’s the inclusion. I miss just simply being a part of it all.
Don’t get me wrong, I love San Francisco. I love being able to walk Lila Belle down by the water and then through the foliage of Ft. Mason. I adore that my Mom and I traversed the city far more on foot, cab and bus than we did by car. And being able to show my old friends a fabulous sushi dinner while trying to explain what a “cougar” was delighted me to no extent. And these visits continue: my dear friends from Australia are already here for a few weeks, I’m heading to Tahoe to play with some of my old ATL (now Chicago) crew, and one of my closest gal pals from Atlanta will be here not just for the Google Sales Conference but for the following weekend as well. My friends, they haven’t forgotten me, and I love that I get to see them so often. And yet this small twinge of jealousy, likened to not being invited to the most popular girl’s party back in 6th grade, still remains. While I know that I can’t have my cake and eat it too, I wish there was a way to keep my South as I learn my San Francisco.