a life from the past come to roost in the present

Sometimes I feel as if I've dreamed it all. It seems so long ago.
My sister and I are in NYC again and it seems as if I'd just been dreaming that I lived in San Francisco...

We're here for surreal reasons: creating a book that is about holding on to the beauty, if only in a glimpse, of the past. The small wonders, the small beauties, the smalls of the world. We're digging in a basement, here in NYC, of an 85 year old shop that is moving it's premises. We're digging out the past, examining it's process, lauding it for making it til now, and holding it up on a pedestal for all to see.

It's seeming to parallel my experience with my own past. Walking around this city is so powerful. It feels like home, but like I'm on an undercover mission. I expect to run into people I know at every turn. More often than not, I walk into a shop, or a restaurant or bar that held some memory and it all comes flooding back to me. My sister says she thinks I'm mourning my youth, but I feel like I'm visiting my roots. Taking strength from them again. When I return to my new life, I feel more grounded.

A wonderful lazy day, while everyone has left the city for the 4th of July weekend, we're hitting up all our old favorites and soaking up every minute of it.