Sunday mornings always make me feel nostalgic. Today I found myself reminiscing about my younger days in San Francisco. I was in my twenties, living in a one bedroom apartment, attending college, working a full-time job, and looking forward to the next X-Files episode. Mulder and Scully were my heroes. My two roommates were a pair of tabby cats named Pyewacket and Bongie. They were my partners in crime. I didn’t quite realize what I had in those days-youth, freedom, time to read and write, and the city at my fingertips. My cats didn’t ask for much. They were easy, comfortable, and my constant companions. I often spent Sunday mornings sitting on my third story deck, watching the fog roll over the Sunset District. A blanket of grey comfort. I usually had a book on my lap, Les Misérables, or some other classic. I would fall asleep to the sound of shopping carts rolling under the parking lot. The homeless residents seemed to start their day in the wee hours of the night. An occasional siren lulled me to sleep.
But with all of these wonderful moments, I yearned for something more. I dreamed of living in the country, owning a farm, rescuing animals, and basically saving the world one chicken at a time. I wanted a family. I eventually got my wish. My husband and I own a farm, Sock Monkey Ranch. We rescue many animals, grow our own crops, and enjoy our beautiful children, Lindsay and Eric. Life is often busy and sometimes a little challenging. I can’t always find the time to sit out on the deck and enjoy a good book. Somehow I manage to take care of all the animals, my husband, and sneak in some time to read and write. Life is good. But I still reminiscence about those quiet days in the Sunset. I miss the fog rolling off the bay, my little deck overseeing the city, and the sounds of the sirens following me into my dreams.