SF Return

“I could tell you of my adventures yesterday” said Alice, a little timidly, “but it wouldn’t do much good; I was a different person then.”

It’s been eleven years since I left Dallas to begin a new leg of my career in the Bay Area. At least, that’s what my email signatures tell me. To me, it feels like a lifetime ago that I packed my bags and headed out west to start a new chapter of my life.

It was all incredibly vivid to me (at the time I moved) and each memory seemed to etch itself into my consciousness. I remember the very first morning I stepped outside into the crisp California air and headed into the chic startup office where my brother and I worked together; stopping along the way to grab an (overpriced) cup of coffee and breakfast sandwich at the cafe on the corner.

I remember the first time I walked into that office just as well as I remember the last time. Just as I remember the first time I walked into the office of my next J-O-B as much as I remember the last. Looking back on those moments, they each had their share of excitement, uncertainty, hope and eagerness for what was around the corner.

In similar fashion, I remember the first time I stepped foot inside of my fraternity house, as well as the last. When I walked out, I had something that I lacked when I first walked inside; a sense of awareness about who I was and how far I’d come since stepping onto the beautiful tile floor.

Life has a remarkable way of giving you opportunities to reflect back on the chapters that it gives you. In some cases, we connect with somebody that we knew a very long time ago. In other instances, we revisit certain places or circumstances.

This week, I had a very short visit back to the Bay Area, or ‘the city’ as SF locals like to call it. In many ways, it was an introspective trip because I returned a much different man than the one who left it seven years ago.

Unlike the time where I moved, the city lacked the vibrance and energy that it used to have in the same way that a neon sign looks different 11 years after it’s hung for the first time; the glow isn’t the same and it gives off a sense of eeriness rather than excitement as you walk by it on the street.

The concrete cityscapes that used to bring me a sense of adventure as I walked them, now felt cold and foreign as I reflected back to the posh green landscapes of the suburbs I now reside. The hunt to find parking spots in ‘safe’ parking zones was contrasted by the memory of my 2-car garage and clicker remote.

During the entire stay, I couldn’t help but ask one question, followed by another:

“How would Atlas like this environment? How do I?”

In a lot of those moments, I had to be honest with myself about how I truly felt. While I can appreciate the nature, beauty and landscape of California, there’s a part of me that can’t look past all of the concrete, human feces, high prices and cultural craziness that goes with the territory.

When I lived in the Bay Area, I was often reminded of the story of the ’emperor with no clothes’ as it pertained to city living. Amongst my friends and co-workers, I often felt as if I looked at the same city they marvelled at while wondering ‘where are his clothes?’

It isn’t that I didn’t see the nature, redwoods, ocean views, boutique restaurants and even booming tech scene. Rather, I was able to see past those things and observe the environment in which they existed.

Some places are wonderful to visit for a short time – frequently, even – but not necessarily the best place to call your home base. While I don’t necessarily love everything about living in Texas, the four walls around my home are the most important part of my day-to-day life, and I’m able to live comfortably here and provide Atlas with a solid upbringing that’s safe, fun and convenient.

If there’s one thing I’ve noticed about my life, it’s that all things come in chapters and have their time to be enjoyed, lived and moved on from. I have no doubt that my life here in Texas will follow similar suit, just a prior chapters of my life have come and gone. However, what I now have is an appreciation for where I’m at, and the ability to truly live and indulge in it fully without seeking to uproot the trees where they’re planted.