Vincent Farnsworth 6:31 p.m., Dec. 4
I think we are all guilty of taking things for granted. With me, it was my beloved San Diego, particularly North Park and the Downtown areas. Even though I knew how lucky I was to have been born and raised (43 years, 51 weeks and 6 days...) in this beautiful city, I guess I just thought nothing could ever come between us, but it did. My son's father got a job offer in Seattle, so off we went.
I finally got the chance to visit my home town after nearly 6 agonizing months away. As the plane began its descent onto the Lindbergh Field landing strip, the beauty of my city brought tears to my eyes. I swore that the moment I stepped off the plane, or at least out of the airport, I would kiss the ground. I forgot to do that though...it's a good thing, I'm sure. However, I knew I was home at last.
After obtaining my rental car and finding my hotel, the next order of business was checking in with old friends. I called my friend Don who is bravely enduring radiation and chemotherapy and was relieved to know that despite his illness, his spirits were up and he was up and about carrying on with his life the best he can. He makes me so proud.
The following night was The Field in the Gaslamp District. This is where my new friends come in. Suzanne, Dave, and Josh. What a delightful trio this was. I came to know and love each one of them immediately just like I knew I would. Meeting these wonderful people was a reminder of what else I would leave behind once I made my way back home, but it is comforting to know that they will always be in my heart. Thanks, guys. I had the best time ever.
The remainder of my short visit was filled with visits with old friends, once again with my new friends, old favorite hangouts, trying to re-absorb every aspect, every sight, sound and smell of my San Diego to take back home with me. I think I succeeded, for this time, I took nothing for granted.