Tess Pawlisch

I miss San Francisco. I miss Crissy Field. The Marina Green. I miss that walk along the water at sunset, with all that green to your left, the water to your right, and the sight of that huge surreal orange bridge up ahead. The Italian sandwich spots in north beach. The insane views from Russian Hill. Getting lost in the Presidio, or Golden Gate Park for hours at a time. The parrots flying above Alta Plaza Park. I miss the sand dunes at Ocean Beach. All those little stores in the mission that sell the most random things that you can’t help but check out over and over again, even though you’re not really sure what they are. I miss running into some of the best coffee spots in the world everywhere you turn. The feeling that you’ve gone back in time as you wander through the Haight-Ashbury and walk by stores that somehow survive selling nothing but tie-dye clothes. I miss hiking around Lands End, in disbelief that place exists on earth. I miss the time-worn but perfect hole-in-the-wall Chinese food restaurant you can’t get enough of. I miss walking into the Ferry Building on a Saturday morning and wanting to sample from every single one of those little shops, and then existing out to a picture perfect farmers market along the water. I miss that stunning downtown view that rises you out of nowhere as you head up highway 280. I miss the electric energy of a crowded Dolores Park on a sunny day, and guessing just what crazy thing that next vendor is going to walk by with. I miss the occasional movie at the Castro Theater, and that hilarious vibe as you’re heading inside. I miss walking up to one of the most beautiful ballparks ever built, and that smell of garlic that sharply greets you as you enter. I miss the throwback steakhouse vibe of The House of Prime Rib. Or occasionally putting on my tourist hat and heading down to Fisherman’s Wharf or over to Alcatraz; two places where you’re guaranteed to never run into anybody you know. I miss zipping down Franklin St and timing it so the lights all turn green just as your car approaches the intersection. I miss the authenticity of Chinatown. I miss how the wind sounds as you ride the ferry across the bay to Sausalito. Talk about a bucket list experience. I even miss hearing those loud kids that crowd The Tipsy Pig all day, screaming at the top of their lungs as that fifth drink starts to hit them. I miss that it never gets too hot, and that picturesque layer of fog that settles just above the water, even when it hangs around for just a few weeks too long. I miss the eclectic mix that makes up the people of San Francisco, and the passion they have for their city. And most of all, I miss the enthusiasm and the optimism, even within a city that has always had its challenges. The people who live there are there because they know there are better days ahead. They know they live in a special place. It’s been down before, but there are just too many great things about it to ever count it out. San Francisco will be back. And it will be better than ever. It’s an American national treasure. It’s a place we should all be rooting for.