A happy-hearted city that will thrill you every minute of your stay. San Francisco, you got me smiling with tears in my eyes! I’ve climbed personal mountains as steep as the streets of Russian Hill and celebrated victories as majestic as the Golden Gate. The adventurous spirit that the Forty-Niners brought here — where gold flowed in the streets — fills the air today. It has made for the most special place to dream, laugh, cry and make memories that will shimmer like gold for a lifetime.
I’m happy and sad to be moving back home to my Midwest!
From home, there will be no sparkle of the bridge lights on the bay or regular getaways to the famous vacationlands of California. From home, there will be wonderful things, perhaps less impressive to some, but far more extraordinary to me. Since taking a chance on fate to the wild West, I could tell some crazy tales that have defined San Francisco as a chapter of pure vulnerability and unique beauty in my life.
California days! The calming white noise of boat horns and cable car dings at bedtime. Cursing out San Andreas at the sight of my fridge tipping over during the rattle of a classic Western quake. Bundling up for beach bonfires. Midnight Swensen’s runs. Ghost encounters in my century-old home. Smoking baby j’s and carelessly yelling crazy things out of the victorian windows. Good convo with angelic Uber drivers who knew what to say at the right time. Late-night drives down U.S. 101 listening to “Lights” by Journey. Waving to the whales up close on a sailboat. I could easily blend in with the denim-wearing tourists, although I was so damn proud to be a resident in such a worldly iconic city. Each of these moments, plus one million others, will leave me yearning for the California nostalgia in all my days to come.
I can think of other times that will forever tug at my heart in a different way — experiences that were very challenging. I had no choice but to take a leaps of faith into the unknown. And if you were lucky to be there in person, on the phone, or with me in spirit — you know just how breath taking, humbling and character-building it was.
I never did secure a place to live before I moved to the Bay. I agreed to share a bedroom with a stranger. I didn’t have enough money to go home for Thanksgiving. Rats infested and overtook my home. When I came back from Christmas, I was homeless and couch surfing. I lived in Silicon Valley on an unstable, hourly, intern income for ten months only to receive a full-time offer the day of my exiting interview (one day prior to unemployment.) Two of my very best friends moved away. My dog, Sunny, died and I didn’t get to say goodbye. I commuted over three hours each day via Uber, walking, bus, train and shuttle. I moved twice, in and out of a storage unit— all without a car. And just a few weeks ago, I unexpectedly lost my lease.
In the heat of the moment, situations like these felt like the lowest of lows— really unfair hardships. Ultimately, I learned how to be brave, let go and give it up to God. I wouldn’t say it was all fearless but it did teach me to fear less. Stripped far from my comfort zone, I became more in-tune with my direction and greater purpose on this planet. I learned how to feel comfortable in my own company, especially on a Friday night. There’s no doubt— God gave me direction when I needed it the most. I found signs in the most unexpected places…
They began long before I ever saw San Francisco on my horizon. It was the fall semester of my junior year in college when all of my work, ideas and even dreams involved the letter S and the letter F (both letters assigned to me at random.) I was designing a fusion of the two letterforms, documented and laid out in a 60-paged process book. When it came time to title my book, the name "Design Maze" seemed most appropriate. (If you squint your eyes and observe closely, the lines of a maze can even start to look like geometric S's and F's.) Everything about that project felt like a maze.
chapter 1 - choosing a path
chapter 2 - lost in exploration
chapter 3 - follow my gut
chapter 4 - the path less traveled
chapter 5 - there's no easy way out
chapter 6 - emerge
4 years later and here I am, a full-time designer at Shutterfly, Inc. in SF, CA— still following my gut and everything about life feels like a maze.
I’ll never forget the night I was walking to meet friends at a bar when I passed a storefront with a sign that caught my attention. It said, “Go Crazy with the Cheese Wiz!” Um, excuse me, what? Cheese wiz was a staple growing up at my Mimi and Poppy’s house and it is one of those quirky food items that will always remind me of them. My brothers would say the same thing. The following day I saw the most beautiful rainbow over the city — my grandmother’s favorite. Maybe they were reminding me not to worry too much — have fun and embrace the craziness! Through it all, my grandparents were always with me, sending signs along the way.
Bernard Street— the name of my street alone was a sign. Come to find out, my great-grandmother had a brother named Bernard who lived in San Francisco over fifty years ago. To this day, Bernard would be the only blood relative in my extensive Mercuri family to ever live on the West coast (other than myself). From the stories I’ve been told, she would visit him in the summers and spend her days wandering around the city while he was at work. I wish I had a picture of her running through the streets of San Francisco so I made sure to take more pictures for the generations to come. Shout out to you, Bernard, for keeping me safe at the top of the hill.
I met a few characters who introduced some comical chapters of premature romance for California Kate. Go ahead, let your imagination run wild with such vulnerable information. Although, maybe it isn’t at all what you think. The first year of night life in San Francisco was pretty steamy. I wore low-cut bodysuits and danced so freely. I had just lost over seventy-five pounds and had a lot to learn about my body. I ran into some nice transplants from the Midwest and did eventually show up on the dating apps, which only pulled me closer to home. Somehow I met a character at home during a visit. After we met, I remember it being the first time I truly dreaded the flight back to California. Back to reality and back to more signs pointing me home to Indy. This time it was another street sign, spelling out his last name, which followed me along the path of my commute in San Francisco. We don’t talk anymore but I’m thankful our paths crossed for no other reason than that tiny glimpse of what my adult life could look like at twenty-five back in Indianapolis; happy, flirty, and free— just like my life in the wild West (but even better).
A sign of the times that perhaps lit the final spark and might as well marked “the beginning of the end” across my forehead. I was in an Uber on my way to the Shutterfly holiday party. We were sitting in Friday night traffic around Union Square and I was trying to get across to the other side of the city. My driver had the radio on and they were talking about the polar vortex happening in the Midwest. A lady was interviewing people at SFO coming off a plane from, you guessed it, Indianapolis. I didn’t think much of it at the time other than a few laughs to myself. I wasn’t too mad about missing out on the eskimo weather that evening. Twenty minutes went by and we were still sitting there in traffic. I didn’t expect my driver to start a conversation as he was not a chatty guy from the start, however, he asked me how my day was. The small talk continued and he connected the dots that I was from Indianapolis — the place they were just talking about on the radio! I told him, of course, I still miss home even in the cold months. He shared that he is from Chile and that he misses his home, too. He then proceeded to ask me, “Have you ever thought about moving back home and starting something for yourself over there?” …Well, that’s a good idea, sir, and yes I have. How did you know? My mom and I have dreamed about going into business together for many moons.
The signs that once pointed to California for so long began to point back towards Indiana before my eyes. A shift in the air and a massive internal struggle began as my soul fought first. I always knew San Francisco would not be my forever home, however, I didn’t think I would have thoughts to leave so soon. Before I knew it, it was all encompassing. I did not like my job. I did not exercise. I did not drink much. I did not eat healthy. I did not feel good. I did not show up to social events. I forgot how to have fun and I did not like how my life was unfolding. I found myself living in a world of limbo; wanting to stay, wanting to go— unable to commit to a single thing. I could barely convince myself to buy a picture frame for my bedroom wall. It got to the point when my actions and detachment said it all. It wasn’t fair to myself or to the others around me. It was just time to go home.
To my Grace, my Molly, my Nora and my Katie. My sisters in the West. They were there for it all; the really good times and the really bad times.
I’ll never forget when one of them listed me as their emergency contact in San Francisco. That was a defining moment. We had a lot of funny hungover mornings laughing in our pajamas. Comfortable silence and loud sing-alongs during long car rides on our weekend getaways to Tahoe and Yosemite. All of us Midwest girls adventuring like crazy and sticking together so fiercely and loyally in the wild West. I found myself so connected to these gentle souls of the Heartland throughout my time in California. I don’t think that was a coincidence. There’s just something special and unexplainable about my SF girlies.
I miss you and I love you always ♡
To my Dad, Mom, Griff, Luke, Aidan, Madeline, Lomill and Annie — my special visitors and perfect reasons to ride a double decker bus again and again through this beautiful city. It made for many memorable staycations and opportunities to share this slice of heaven. I’m not sure they realized how much their visits made me feel so loved.
I am sitting in disbelief that it’s all really happening. I am really doing it. I am moving home and it feels good to act on a gut feeling that has been churning in my stomach for quite some time. Although, I remember a similar feeling of disbelief when I finished my first tube of toothpaste in San Francisco. I found just as much comfort as I did shock when I was settled into the mundane, normal routine of living in a new place. Oddly enough, every new tube marked major checkpoints throughout this adventure. Subtle mental notes that it was time for a new one always caught my attention. I eventually lost count of the number I finished but it only feels right to be at the very end of a final crusty squeeze.
I had just gotten back to my desk after going on a walk with my boss to discuss my official resignation. It was the first day that the summer interns arrived for the same internship that brought me here exactly two years ago. The new girl next to me goes, “I’m from the Midwest, too!” I just had to laugh. I felt like I was in the movie, Jumanji, and the game had just rebooted. I told her she was in for the grandest wild West adventure. Pretty soon you’ll be able to tell real life stories better than the movies! What I didn’t tell her, though, is “you’re on the right path.” She gets to figure that one out for herself. As for me, I know I’m on the right path, it’s just veering slightly.
It is not easy to say goodbye, as suddenly, I can only remember the good times spent in the Pacific time zone. The community I made from scratch feels extra special. I was recently visiting the Mona Lisa (my favorite restaurant) and as I was leaving, one of the waiters recognized me and said, “Oh hey, you!” He met my mom when I took her there on my birthday. He made fun of me for always ordering a side of Alfredo sauce with my spaghetti. He knows my best sidekicks who accompany me there every couple of months. That was a heartbreaking moment. It stopped me in my tracks. Here I was — a familiar face in a transient city — also on my way out the door.
I have plenty of fears about leaving. I don’t want to be just another person who came and got what they needed just to leave as quickly as they got here. I got to thinking about fate. Can we still take a wrong step and wander off our own personal Milky Way? I couldn’t help but wonder. Can you make a mistake and miss your fate? Nevertheless, my decision has been made and it wasn’t taken lightly or made over night. I prayed for it and I have finally freed myself from the fear of worrying about how others will react. That’s the thing— it has been another exhilarating revolution. I am coming around the corner from this adventure full circle. I am a more confident person, owning my fate, embracing my decisions all the way. It feels so wild. It feels so liberating. I’ll be returning back home with a different lens and San Francisco will remain written on my heart forever. This place shook me up in the best way possible. I proved to myself that I can do really hard things, I can figure anything out, and I will always find good around every unknown corner. Thank you, God, for the signs through this maze and for never leaving my side.
I know I will be back to run wild and free in these hilly streets. And who’s to say— maybe by then, wild and free will look different than reckless partying by night and selfish pedicures by day. I hope to visit back with my mister. We will enjoy a window table at Allegro Romano on Jones— the most underrated, romantic nook of the city. I never went but promised myself to have a special bowl of pasta there one day. I dream about family vacations and long days chasing our littles with drippy ice cream cones down the piers. I will watch the sun go down over the Bay with my babies wrapped up in my arms. They’ll be wearing those oversized tourist sweatshirts and I will tell them they can never dream a dream too big.
I LOVE YOU, MY SAN FRANCISCO ♡