because small things matter

:)

Mobility

(Semi-Fiction...) 

Mobility

The wind permeates her face, blowing her hair towards one direction. Usually afraid of the cold and covering herself in thick jackets, she rolls over her jacket sleeves to embody the wind. To live and embrace what she thinks is the best the city could offer: chilly wind and blue sky. But that’s about it.

In this city, black, yellow, brown, white, hippies, geeky, transsexuals, music producers, poets, all live together. One MUNI train could offer the one-color-at-a-time human chain: white enters and as white leaves, yellow and black comes in. As yellow leaves, MUNI is all black. If the train runs at 7pm, when the blue sky is substituted by somber streets with hardly any street lights, everything around her would be black. There would be voices singing raps, a young girl calling her mom for directions to get out of the train, and smirks guys exchange with each other that she never understands. The train goes from North to South and hence the order of the colors. She hopes it would be because of just her own xenophobia and the differences are just in one’s mind. Her white friends do not know this part of town exists. Her yellow friends empathize that the area is dangerous. Familiarity with the urban scene, Paris, London, Hong Kong, Saigon, New York, can’t help her avoid uneasiness.

She has friends living in the city, those from the most coveted schools in the country. They live with housemates, girlfriend and boyfriend, chasing not their dreams, but their independence and freedom.  They put up with the cold, the wind, the MUNI color changes, to join packs of others in the city. In fact, few take the MUNI at all.

All want to explore, although a few know what they are searching for. Many don’t want to miss out a once-of-a-lifetime youth to live free and lively in the city and in the Bay. Like them, she loves lounges, bars, Italian restaurants, French cafes, old bookstores, and the AT&T baseball games. She would drive down to see Halfmoon Bay and check out Monterey. The spiky dark green pine trees, lazy light green fields, heavy broad high mountains, and flashy ocean waves of the Bay never fail to let her down – like the chilly wind, it refreshes her face and her skin.

She does not really like her landlord, and rarely sees her housemate, who works for a hedge fund. She remembers that he’s really smart, the latest memory she has of him. None of her friends has a particular attachment to the city, and they still enjoy life. One occupies his thoughts in philosophy and theology, resisting to date as he would later leave for home. Another is fully consumed by work and boyfriend, living and changing life along regions in the U.S. every few months. Her sorority draw-mate can never be sure how long she can keep dating the same person. Life in the city strolls. Attachment is taboo. Exploration is important. Apathy to the MUNI is convenient and sometimes, necessary.

-        -  I’m going back to Cambodia.

-        -  What?

-        - Yeah, I can’t stand life here without family. It gets lonely. And I’m getting married.

She was shocked by his statements. 1.5 year out of school, 1 month knowing the now-fiancee. And yet, she’s happy for him.  Three years ago, the fiancee’s parents gave a profile of someone they thought would be compatible with her. She didn’t like his name and dropped the profile. Three years later, they met on their own through a mutual friend. He may have found what he’s been searching for.  Time in the city may just be necessary to run until the true treasure comes. Having the treasure refresh his soul and heart, he now could leave the chilly wind that refreshes his face and skin.

-        -  I don’t really want to stay at this consulting job but I love my community in the city.

-         - What community? – she asks for more details while enjoying her exquisite Italian crabs and clams, reaching out to her nerves, demanding them to think about “community”

-         - Yes, I counsel drug addicts every weekend. A group of us take class on psychology and counseling.

It’s odd to her that her friend who for sure goes home in 3 years makes the efforts to build a community beyond his social sphere. Why should he care about a community that in the long term, he will not really have a stake in. How many of him are there?

What does it mean to be free? Is the pursuit of freedom the same with pursuit of dreams? Is the pursuit of dreams the same with realizing, making and remaking, and living dreams every day? What does it mean to enjoy life? While knowing that figuring out the answers to these questions is the very reason why her friends and she live in the city, she knows her values are neither in independence nor exploration. She likes being well-grounded, living passionately for others and for a community she loves. In that sense, to be free is not like to be like bubbles floating and birds flying. It’s more like leaves budding high from deep roots.  When there are lots of them, shades will form. Fresh, light, green, peace. But trees can’t move.

-          

      - Yeah, I think I could be a tree to see how things have changed over time – her friend said to her.

-         - This lake is gorgeous. Maybe I could be a lake. It moves, but still attached to a certain region only. It cleanses and refreshes but not too intimidating. It runs deep.