Sitting in the sunny South Park, watching dogs and their humans walk by, I suddenly remembered — it is two decades since I packed my bags and moved to San Francisco. Again, I almost didn’t remember. It took a random text message from an old friend in New York that reminded me of the 20th anniversary. 

I came here reluctantly — mostly because I had no choice. I hung on to my storage unit, thinking I would eventually return, so why move everything over? I kept the phone number too. The storage unit and its contents are gone. Only the number remains, and some friendships. Otherwise, New York is now a distant memory, a part of my life that never will be. And neither will be the New York of those days. What remains is a map of memories I like to visit occasionally. 

“New York’s streets and corners have a story attached to them and I guess that gives a sense of belonging, and in the process act as a markers on the timeline called life,” I once wrote on my blog.” I don’t feel that same way about San Francisco, even though I have lived here for 10 years. I guess, it will always be a place where I live, just not home.” I still have a tough tconsideringg of San Francisco as home, but by my definition, it is closer to home today than it was a decade ago. On the tenth anniversary of my move, I (Read more...)