Jessica Leaves the City (for Now)

​I came to San Francisco with my only point of reference being the corner of 6th and Mission. The rest of this city was a blur of buses and turns down nameless streets. However with only a few days into this semester, my mental map began to grow. It grew with each new exploration, each new district, each new bus route, each new walk home, each new step. I know the bus stops of the 21 and the 43 by heart, I recognize the faces and the voices that sit across from me every Monday morning, it’s all become so familiar, so routine. I know that when I wake up David will be in the kitchen grinding coffee or looking out of the window in the parlor. I know that Rachel will soon walk down the stairs 5 minutes before class starts in her sweats and I’ll embrace her with a hug. I know that Katie will have a story for me or suggest a new adventure for the afternoon. I know that I’ll walk into work and Natasha will instantly make me start laughing by the song she’s blaring and her dance moves soon to accompany. I know that I’ll walk through the front door and see Maddie peeking behind her computer, there to greet my arrival. I know that Vroselyn will be sitting in the parlor watching youtube videos, fixing her hair and as I hand her a piece of cake she will loudly proclaim, ‘I am blessed in the city and in the field.’ I know that Kristyn will be around the corner, ready for a hug after her workday. I know that Carter will go to bed at 10:30 and yell at me for giving her a hard time about it. I know that around that time Sheldon will begin to cook up some wild and crazy good concoction. I know that Tia will catapult onto her bed and say ‘good night’. It’s familiar, it’s routine.
It took me a while to recognize the feeling that I became overwhelmed with in this city. The feeling that awakened me, that revived me, that took a hold of me. I couldn’t quite grasp why I felt more at home walking down 6th street, with the strong stench of urine being masked by bleach filling my nose at the turn of the corner, with the profanity being yelled from one corner to the next, with men calling out at me, with graffiti lining buildings and drugs being thrown down out of windows. I feel more at home on this street, than I do at the house I lived in for 20 years. Why do I feel at home in an area strewn with drug addicts and poverty, in an area where I’ve found needles next to playgrounds, where families of six cram into 10x10 rooms? While it may not be clear to many, this street is where I feel God moving. I see Him in DeMarcus, a 6 year old boy who gets on his knees every Sunday and prays for his mom to come to church, I see Him in Tony, a 6 foot 2 black man, that cries his heart out during worship with tears streaming down his face, I see Him in Cameron who moved his family into Section 8 housing to be near the youth in this area, amidst the gun shots outside, I see Him in Gwen who has been clean for 8 days and rejoices in each hour that passes, I see Him in this church filled with folding chairs, muddy shoes and baggy t-shirts more so than I’ve ever seen Him in the church I was raised in, filled with pews and straight ironed clothes.
This city has grasped my heart so tightly I do not believe that it will ever let go. However I don’t have to say goodbye quite yet, just until we meet again, on the corner of 6th and Mission.