Welcome Home!

by

Mama is moving back to the Mission.  I am so happy, I am beyond.  I am over the moon. And did you see the moon rise tonight?  Glorious.

I have a new place to live.  On one of my favorite streets in the Mission–Folsom.  My new residence as of February 1st will be on Folsom and 22nd.  I could not ask for a better location.  Eight blocks from Rainbow Grocery.  Three blocks down and four blocks over, Mission Bicycle aka work.

Can I just say boy am I glad that I found a place in the Mission to go with my new one speed bike.  I was responding to an ad last night on craigslist for a room at the top of Cortland in Bernal hill and I thought, wow is that going to be a ride.

Nope, I will be in the flats.  I will be in the sunshine.  I will be two scant blocks away from Philz.  I am going home.

I love the Mission.  I have always loved the Mission.  It was the first place I lived in the city, the first place I stayed.  And perhaps it is the familiarity of it, maybe the weather, that it is truly one of the sunniest places in the city does not hurt.

By the way, holy cats was it nice today.  I left the house over dressed.  I walked around in flip-flops!  Oh, oh, oh and I am just  few blocks away from my nail salon, Center Nails on 24th and Harrison.   Seriously.

After seeing the room I went to Philz and got a cup of coffee, ran into Rory, made plans to see him this next Friday, then went to Center Nails and got a manicure/pedicure and eye brow wax.  Heaven.

I love Folsom street because of the trees.  They are old growth trees and they are big and beautiful and also because you have some of the prettiest Victorian’s in the city between 21st and 25th on Folsom.  Plus a great view of Bernal Hill.  And I will be close to the BART and close to my fellowship.

I’m coming home.

Today was not the day I was expecting to find a place to live.  Which may be why it happened.  Serendipity, coincidence, god, faith, love, the Universe conspiring for me.  Call it what you will, I know in my heart how this all happened.

And it all happened because I slowed the fuck down.  Even this morning I got a little warning about going to fast.  I left my bike at work so I took the bus in to the Mission from Nob Hill.  It’s MUNI and I was on the 49, so of course, it’s going a lot slower than I want it to.

When I get to my stop at Mission and 15th I scurried out the door and the voice in my head said slow down.  But I’m about to be late, I said back to it all sassy like.

And then the pavement hit me on the ass.

Or I should say I hit the pavement and went sprawling on my ass.  Banged up my knees again and scraped my palms.  Jesus H. Christ on a raft.

I tripped on a crack in the side-walk.

You have got to be kidding.  I cannot apparently even ambulate about the city without fumbling all over myself.  I was helped up by a very sweet lady, I dusted my palms off, straightened my skirt and slowly walked the rest of the way to Valencia Gardens.

Yeesh.

I sat quietly for an hour.  It was good.  I heard what I needed.  I went over my plans for the day–flirt with the young bookish man from Austin and fish for a date.  Then I would go off to the nail salon, maybe swing by Dog Ear on the way there and get a book.  All this would be done after lunch, however, as I was hungry.

After nails, ride the bus to Nordestrom’s Off the Rack and buy some essential clothing and then pop into Trader Joes for groceries.  Back on the 27 Bryant to Nob Hill and then haunt craigslist searching for a room.

That was the plan.

And it went according to plan really well.  Right down to the bookish boy saying hello to me and complimenting me on the flower in my hair.  And then expressing absolute awe that I was older than he.  He’s 29.  God, what is it with attracting these young ones?  And he thought I was younger than him!

Good way to start a conversation.

I made myself stand still and talk and not scurry away.  But man, he is shy and I did not get asked on the date, despite thinking I would.  I may want to, but I am not going to do the asking.  So, I left after a nice little chat as I was called away to converse with Clara about her bike, which had just gotten stolen.

By the time I finally got to Sunflower I was ravenous.  My waiter hurried over and in his sweet Vietnamese laughing voice said, “veggie salad and tea”!  Yes, I nodded.  Please.

I settled in and then realized that the bookish boy and a group of acquaintances were at the back of the restaurant and there was an open chair next to the boy.  No way!

Fate?

Destiny?

The One?

Get over there right now!  Impose yourself, hurry!

Wait.

Go slow.

There is no rush.

If he’s it, he’ll come to you and ask you out.  Oh, and duh, he has your number.

Breathe, sit down, and eat your salad.

Best fucking decision I made all day.  In walks Kevin and Caesar.  They holler a hello and say, hey come join us.  I know them both from around the neighborhood, but don’t know them ridiculously well, but yeah, sure, why not.

They ask how I’m doing and I tell them I am well despite having been without my own place for a while, I’m getting the swing of it.

What?  You’re looking for a place?  How much can you afford?

I say no more than $800.  I look at Caesar, you have a room available at your place?

Nope.

But his parents do!

Turns out they are renovating a room at the back of their house and adding a bathroom on to it and will be looking for some one to move in, but not for a little while, about a month, maybe three weeks.

I smack Caesar on the arm, mine!  I want it.  Mine!  I will couch surf until it is available.

Where’s it located?

Folsom and 22nd.

I just about wept.

No way.

Yes way.

Caesar calls his parents, but there’s no answer.  What am I doing after lunch, well, I laugh, I was going to go get my nails done.  Why don’t you swing by with me says Caesar, I think my folks are home.

And they were, they were working on installing the tile in the bathroom.  In my new room.  It is not big, but it will fit my bed, my desk, and my rocking chair.  It does not have a closet, but it comes with a wardrobe.  I won’t really have access to the main house except for the kitchen, but who the fuck cares because….

I have my own entrance! Through the gate on the side of the house, around the back, where I have also have access to the back yard, and up the back steps to the room at the back of the house.  It is completely separated from the main house right off the kitchen.  I also am on the back deck.  Pretty much open up my door and step onto a huge wooden deck.

Can we say writing my morning pages on the deck with a cup of French pressed coffee or two while the warm Mission sunlight shines down on me?  I’m getting a hard on writing about it.

Oh. My. God.

And the bathroom is huge.  It is not finished, they are still working on it.  But it will be my own bathroom.  In a sense I will have a small studio, without a kitchen.  All utilities are included.  $700 a month.  Deposit?

$150.

Don’t hate.

I was stunned.  Then, the clincher.  I have two cats.  Can I have cats?

No.

Caesars mom said no way, shaking her head negatively.  She indicated to Caesar in rapid Spanish that she did not want cats, they’ll claw up the walls.  I don’t speak Spanish, but I got what she was saying and I quickly indicated to Caesar that they would do no such thing and that I had pet references if she needed.  He relayed the information and how, I don’t know, or why, who the fuck cares, she changed her mind and said yes.

I have a room.  In the Mission.  With my cats.  And a teeny tiny deposit.  That I don’t even have to pay until I move in on February 1st.

I looked at Caesar when he said, “it’s yours”.  And said, “can I hug your mom?”

They all smiled and I hugged her.  I could have hugged her all day long.

I think I hugged Caesar about seven more times and then I went to Philz and got my celebratory coffee.

Life is good.

But I think you may have already gathered that.

Tags: , , , ,

2 Responses to “Welcome Home!”

  1. sarah Says:

    Yay Carmen yay!!! I could weep tears of joy for you!!!!!

    YYAYAYYAYAYAY!!!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: