I am — so predictably — verklempt over this pending departure from Santa Fe. I ordered myself a fresh linen bedding set to meet me back at my condo in San Francisco to sweeten the arrival.

I have known all along that one’s relationship with Santa Fe is not entirely an explicable thing; it is expressed in symbols, actions, feelings, and even the wind. She soaks you in or spits you out. I have had much in each cup. John hosted a beautiful Burns Night party this weekend, with more than a dozen people, and I realized just how many people I have come to admire and adore here.

And yesterday I wrote down a list of all the little things that I love here:

Walking Bruno at the Ortiz dog park (best in the world)
Coffee and blueberry muffins at Betterday Coffee
Hot tub roulette at 10,000 Waves
Ski Santa Fe season pass
Sitting at the bar counter for dinner at Arroyo Vino
Green chili pesto from the farmer’s market (and green chili everything)
Browsing titles at Garcia Street Books, buying candles and incense at The Ark
Hiking every single trail off Hyde Park Road
Running down Canyon Road at 6:30 a.m.
Sun and Moon Mountains, Lost Wrangler trails, Arroyo Hondo
Walking around the ranch in search of rusted treasures
Birdsong in the morning
Dumplings from Dumpling Tea downtown
The labyrinths in Aldea and at the cathedral
Movie nights at the Violet Crown
Sitting outside Ikonic with coffee
Ham and cheese baguettes from Clafoutis for a hike
Being a regular to pick up mail at Mail Call
The free book libraries all over town are the best
Amazing second hand shops
12 Step Meetings on Saturday night at IAIA Hogan
Yoga in the park in the summer
The Chama river (which lured me here to begin with!)
My wonderful dog sitter who had 4 chihuahuas and loved Bruno
Watching the sunsets from my porch at the ranch
Listening to the woodstove fire in cold mornings
Sleeping with no sounds of sirens nor firecrackers
Yoga with A. in the casita
…and of course a personal partnership that taught me so much.

I am sure there is even more. And more after that.

So why am I going back to San Francisco right now? I don’t have a neat, happy answer. The easiest would be to say “the psychic told me to go back and study something new.” (That is true. More on that later.)

A. also told me this French phrase “reculer pour mieux sauter” — which means step back to jump. That feels most apt.

My swirling middle-life calculus is harder to fit into a conversation snack. It is hard to describe in a sentence how my security issues mix with my deep disenfranchisement with working for another person; there is some stuff in there about not being entirely sure I want to sink all my housing dollars into the overpriced Santa Fe market right now; there is some stuff in there about missing the ocean and fog, my sober community, and my college friends; there is something in there about longing for my roots. I also feel like I want to travel to some more places before making a (nearly) million-dollar decision.

But yet…

Dear Santa Fe,
I will miss you and I love you — you took me truly to a new land; you carried me through the second year of the pandemic; you helped me shift my perspective in ways that are changing the arc of my life. You held my risky leap and matched it with both challenges and love. You held a mirror back up to me and I will be forever grateful for that. You gave Bruno rabbits and you gave me pink clouds, lightening strikes, and a love story. I look forward to reuniting, sooner, hopefully, rather than later.
Love, C&B

This Friday, Bruno, John, and I will hit the road in the early morning. My new fog-colored linen sheets will be awaiting our arrival on Sunday, to hold me in their softness, until I know where I am going next.

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