Thursday night after work, I hustled to Rainbow Grocery to buy olive oil, harissa, and other weirdness. It’s been months since I last shopped at this indie, vegetarian grocer. Walking down 14th Street, it hit me, the remembrance of when I first shopped at Rainbow, when everything felt so fresh, new, scary, and adult. The store that seemed across town is actually just a few blocks away. Although I can recall in snatches that Rainbow innocence, I’m no longer so caught up in grocery storing.
Ten years now in San Francisco, I’ve had so many chapters. I sag jaded under the weight of too many adventures, worried that I’ll never feel freshness again. I’ve seen so much of this city, done so many of the annual events. I’m officially middle-aged.
I do cherish the wisdom – sometimes snarky – that I’ve amassed here. I’m more sure of myself being unsure. Public speaking doesn’t bother me as much. I find things better that are “me,” and not just for everyone.
But, still, when a city this vibrant and in flux feels tired and old, how do I reinvent my perspective, how do I see with new eyes? plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.