Landmarks

Growing up, there was a Southern California landmark that made me happy every time that I saw it. It was out of the way, so driving by it was a moment for excitement. A reminder of what was near. As I grew older, it became a part of my routine freeway driving. This didn't diminish my excitement. Some of my older friends may realize what I'm talking about.



The Matterhorn isn't the only landmark that makes me happy. The Hollywood sign still evokes images of the golden age of cinema. The Statue of Liberty always brings tears to my eyes. And of course, the Golden Gate Bridge.



It's no secret that a few weeks ago I wasn't emotionally in the best place. I felt isolated from the city. Leonard and I were both recovering from a flu, and had barely left the apartment. He wanted to cheer me up, so he took me on a surprise trip to Golden Gate Park. To see the buffalo. And we were driving on 19th street, the major street near our house. We'd been on the road for maybe five minutes, and we went over a minor hill and suddenly there it was.

Leonard turned to me with a smile. "Look at that." But I didn't reply. I felt my eyes filling up with tears. So many of my trips to San Francisco, the bridge has been ignored. I would drive across the lesser Bay Bridge, stay downtown, and never venture to the ocean side of the city. Now I live near the bridge. The Golden Gate is my bridge.

Within the week, I would begin my new job. Now every (not foggy) work day, I drive that same route. I drive toward Golden Gate park, and for a few blocks, I can see her. My bridge. And every morning I smile like the little girl who was obsessed with the Matterhorn.

This is my home.