I decided to celebrate my birthday on Monday by returning to Bolinas. It's been two years since I drove over Mount Tamalpais to visit my old home. A friend accompanied me in the afternoon. We drove by Bolinas Lagoon. It was just at low tide. Nothing had changed on the way to town. farm stand. nursery school. Warren Weber's Star Root Farm. Susie's Tompkin property in Francisco Mesa.
We parked next to the community center. There weren't many people around, so it was a sleepy and relaxing day. There were only a few stores open – BoGas, The Coop, John's Store, a closet, and he only had one or two storefronts. The small house that was once home to the Bolinas Bay Bakery — where, 40 years ago, I moonlighted while making cheesecake — now bears a giant Black Lives Matter sign. The Ukrainian flag was waving in the wind. We walked to the beach on Wharf Road. The only people walking on the sand were a woman and her dog. There are no surfers. The biggest change to the town was that the post office was closed for nearly 400 days. Currently, you have to drive to Stinson Beach to pick up your mail.
There were some old people on the street, and after all these years, I had the chance to hug them a few times and tell people how nice they were. My dearest friend, a co-op member, was working an early shift and had already left for the day. I couldn't remember how I found her little villa. It was one of several behind a large fence on a large property located on one of the Mesa's dirt side streets.
We drove to Agate Beach and parked outside the house where my husband and I raised our daughter. Very quiet. The tall grass on the hill behind the house was bathed in sunlight. The air smelled of sea and pine. An invisible bird cried out from its perch hidden in the branches. The garden was overgrown with grass and several trees had been cut down. It was like entering a time warp. I felt like I could walk down the hallway to the front door, step inside, and resume my normal life. It seemed possible. A Proustian moment. Leaving Mesa, at the intersection of Overlook Road and Mesa Road, a sign told us it was now or never.
At the intersection, we turned left and drove past the Tacella Ranch to visit the Vanishing Point Ranch, where my daughter had been riding for nearly 15 years. As she drove down the dirt road full of deep potholes, she almost expected to see her white Arabian Mojave still grazing in the crowd. It was unthinkable to admit that all the horses that lived there were no longer alive. I wanted to knock on the door and see if her owner and trainer, Sally, was there and tell her that her daughter still rides her two or three afternoons a week. I was thinking. I knew how great it would be to hear about the impact her girlfriend had on her own life. But it felt like a huge setback that I couldn't fathom. When I think back to those days, I feel a deep sense of irreparable loss.
On Tuesday, still under the spell of magic and memory, I searched for a house to rent in Bolinas and actually found one on Trulia. 2 bedroom located about 1 block from the downtown beach. Probably too expensive. It will probably arrive with furniture. There are many stairs. Still, I submitted a screening request. I received a call and a message from the owner. I called him Wednesday morning to thank him but told him I had changed my mind. The big girl in me knows that at this stage in my life, it would be too difficult and lonely to go back over the hill to West Marin. Only a few of her friends still live there. Some have passed away, others have moved away.
Last night, I texted a friend about how painful it is to travel back in time, and how strong the nostalgia and emotion is. She emailed back saying it would be too painful to revisit that period in her life. It's good to know I'm not the only one with this feeling.
Still, now that my car has four new tires, I've decided to drive to Bo more often. After searching on Airbnb, I found a place that allows dogs. I plan on driving out every few months and spending a few nights in the middle of the week. Maybe I'll start writing poetry again. Sharpen your cheesecake making skills. It looks like next year will be a good year.
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