My last day in California. Not forever, I’ll be back! I got a late start today, but the sun was shining through the windows beckoning me onwards. I walked to Bernal Heights, enjoying leisurely window-shopping along Cortland Avenue. It reminded me of downtown Winslow, actually, complete with cute gift shops, casual dining spots, a friendly, quirky bookshop, and an old-fashioned library. Book tourism is surprisingly satisfying, given that one can see books anywhere — but the variety of venues I’ve seen throughout this voyage makes it clear that the juxtaposition and selection of books, as well as the environment in which they are browsed through and discovered, makes physical books irreplaceable. They create an asynchronous community of voices and perspectives, connecting authors and readers throughout time and space. I can pick up a book because it is placed next to one I know, find a used copy signed by a writer I hadn’t heard of before, flip the pages flipped by dozens or hundreds of others in the book-lovers’ unending search for compelling words.

As the afternoon drew long, I took the long road back, through the Bernal Heights Park, with a clear-skied view of the city spilling out over the hills. I walked along 24th, with its Mexican bakeries and taquerias, and the evening crowd beginning to take to the streets. Iggy was not able to make it back from work in time, so I gathered my things and said my goodbyes to Lucy. I hiked to the nearest BART stop and enjoyed the subway ride to Berkeley, where I plopped down in Half Price Books until Ben got back from Parkour class. Then I waited for him to scrape himself off the pavement — yeah, you’d better believe it’s not as easy as they make it look, but what an awesome way to get injured! — and we caught up over Thai food with his friend, who turned out to be a speedy driver. Suffice to say I made it to the train on time, and prepared for a night of cat-naps and a day of return.

Knowing that Santa Cruz is there, waiting for me, I feel some part of my soul-searching is at peace. I thought I desperately needed to find my place and go there immediately, but having found it, I can move forward — go to grad school, pursue an awesome career as a landscape architect, explore other places, and find a way to get back there. I also learned how much my friends appreciate me, one of the few times I’ve felt truly valid as a human being and not just a hanger-on. In the limited time frames formed by rushing from place to place, I’m actually making time for other people, and it’s so worth it. It’s too easy for me to be a lazy homebody, but with a bit of forethought, I can say that I’ve done things at the end of the day, and I have people to say them to — people who care! It’s true in California, it’s true in Oregon, it’s true in Washington, and it’s true in Massachusetts. As I move forward with my life, I vow to remember to make time for friendships, and create days worth sharing with them.

I may not have my half-acre, but the quest remains worthy!