One With The Bridge

The city as it’s referred to is one of the more colorful and alluring metropolitan areas in the USA. The Golden Gate Bridge has a uniquely awe inspiring quality that for me has little to do with its aesthetics and engineering marvels, though it is a magnificent sight, the real beauty lies in the untold tales of the millions of souls that have crossed the bay since 1937. With such a rich history of diversity by western standards as well as being the monolithic symbol of the spirit of manifest destiny via westward expansion. The power and mystique are equaled by only a few other structures in the modern world.

I first visited the Bay Area as a kid in the early 90s. This is one of my most vivid and impossible to fully describe memories. My parents and older brother drove from Reno Nevada and while I now know this means I first would’ve crossed the Bay Bridge from Oakland into SanFran, I can only assume I was so awestruck by the skyline and overwhelmed by the euphoria of the “city jitters” I can’t recall this prequel crossing.

Even as an adult that ended up going in and out of the Bay Area regularly I still always got those nervous rushes of adrenaline I first tasted as an innocent child. It’s as if even then I knew the city was calling me and would eventually play a major part in defining who I am. These inexplicable and ineffable facets of life are too grandiose to fully elucidate. Such intangible aspects are perhaps only known by those who have immersed themselves wholly in the path less traveled.

I’m not even sure exactly what that means, but my ineptitude to pull at the seams of destiny and extract something tangible with words on a page has plagued better writers than myself.

I’ve been preoccupied with reminiscing on these pivotal and formative years I spent in Northern California lately. I can’t call it homesickness as I never felt like the Bay Area was really home, I grew up thousands of miles away from Cali and ended up there only because in my mind the place where I’m from didn’t exist anymore. Perhaps, I’m coming to realize my true home is the bridge itself, the nexus of the known and unknown, a place of passage, a feeling that transitioning and bridging gaps is precisely where the eternal elixir of acquiescence resides. It is said that home is where the heart is and if that is accurate that would mean home can be everywhere and in all things as long as we maintain the integrity of our bridges.

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