The City

I spent yesterday in San Francisco with my aunt Karen. We walked from her apartment to the Museum of Modern Art (interesting, to say the least), went shopping at Neiman Marcus, got lunch at a French bistro, and just walked around the city.

There was a part of me that kept saying, I could do this. I could live in the city. But the rest of me protested. As much as I enjoyed the busyness and culture and shopping that is San Francisco, I like my small town. I like that you can't go to the gym without running into someone you know. I like that people honk at each other out of recognition, not out of anger. I like that half the baristas at the Starbucks on Tennant not only know my name, but are able to spell it correctly! I like that my friends text me to ask if they can hang out at my house and make s'mores literally less than an hour before they show up. I like that I can sit by the pond at Community Park and journal without worrying about getting jumped. I like that I've never been asked to leave during a 3-hour long conversations I've had over lunch at Panera.

I like the slower, friendlier culture of the South Valley. I like that people matter.