We all move on eventually, I did. I watched many people take flight, and leave from here. Many because they were ready, and something else just pulled them away.
But Michelle is being evicted from her home of nearly 15 years. This is the story of The Mission- it gathered us up with it's funky, liberating vibe (and it's great weather and cheap rent). And as so many stories like this go, all the artists moved in, toughed it out through muggings and chiva, and trash and bums and turned the rejected into the cool, hip and coveted. Those who could afford when it was affordable bought. And then everybody bought. Including Michelle's new landlord. Buy it up, move 'em out, fix it up... then... sell it off? Move in the folks from the Marina who want to be closer to the great restaurants and funky bars but still have an updated, granite-counter-top apartment?
Michelle's place was our last home away from home in our old home.
The port o' call during Halloween in the Castro, and Pink Saturday. The starting point for the Folsom Street Fair. The balcony booth for Dykes on Bikes. The dressing room for nights out with The Girls. The nursery for Zoe's first year. And these are only a few of my own sweet memories. M&Ms and Playboy on the coffee table. Frida on the wall. Madonna on the Stereo. Windows on pulleys and ropes. Artichoke dip and Quiches in the oven. Tequila, lime and Coke in the kitchen. Smoking on the porch. Curling iron on in the bathroom. Ironing board under a cork board full of color pictures of a family of friends. Someone else's wedding pictures over the sink. Funky chandeliers in every room. The perfect shade of gray in the bay window room. The weirdest shades of every other color in every other room. Polka dot curtains. Open bar, warm welcome.
Tonight is the final-final. The last call. And Michelle & Robb are the belles of the ball.
No comments:
Post a Comment