Tomorrow—well, technically today—I am heading back home to San Francisco, and while I am very much looking forward to being in my own home and in that most special of Cities where the sun powers me and the moon seems to hang from the dome of sky almost within reach, I find myself wishing.
Wishing that twelve days didn’t zip by so fast here with my family. Wishing that I had more time to spend in New York with Jennie and Tney! and JMG and the rest of the wonderful folks I got to meet or to see again. Wishing that here and there were just plain Here. That all of the people I love were within driving distance. That stopping by my brother Sam’s house was as simple as firing up iChat. That touch could be communicated via TCP or UDP. That this country were not so big.
I will admit that my own sense of habit and sense of center have had me bounding, in the past, for the City after being away from it for any length of time. I would keep one foot firmly on the terra not-so-firma of San Francisco, emotionally, and wherever I was—and not who was around me—was simply “away”.
But this time? Maybe it’s a lack of habit because of the accident and the disability. Maybe it’s the recent breakup of a relationship that I desperately had wanted to work out and be forever. Maybe the climb has been too steep for too long and I’ve hit a stall-point. Or maybe all of our virtual worlds overlap so much and have become so commonplace that these real-world visits serve to illustrate all the dimensions of living that we miss, all those extra colors of the rainbow that we forget we can see.
I love my family very much, even when we fight and sometimes especially when we fight—because I know I can express myself and they can express themselves and no matter the volume or the temper, it is an absolute given that we all love each other and that will never change.
That’s really all I’ve ever wanted out of my friendships and my relationships: to be sure of the others. I’m sure of my family and I’m certainly sure and surely certain of myself. I’m hopeful that I will see my family members again, in person, sooner rather than later. And I know that the only way to be sure of anything is to stop wishing and start doing.
As Marie would occasionally say whenever one of us would start a sentence with I wish…: Wish in one hand; shit in the other. See which one gets filled faster.
Tact is for strangers; politesse for opponents. Candor? That’s family. Where wishing just gets in the way of having.
And I have the best family any man could ask for.