The unseasonably cold weather we have been having cleared as if by magic for Fleet Week and the drive in was magical. I found parking on Sutter near Leavenworth and walked up the hill.
I enjoyed singing hymns - miss it sometimes at my current 8-am-at-St.-Mark's habit - and admiring the beauty of the surroundings. I got one of the individual "stall" seats in the quire, with a needlepoint cushion of ocean/mountains/poppies/palms. I visited my favorite ikons and lit candles in the AIDS chapel (St. Mark's has no such objects of devotion). I still feel like a part of the Grace community but in the months since I had been there last (I think July 4 was it) I feel a strong shift towards St. Mark's, and the chance to do something in my community of residence. But I will always love Grace, and I can certainly go back there any time I feel like it.
(I was touched, and moved, by the exhibit of many landmarks on and after 9/11/01, and the role of St. Paul's Chapel, a place near to my heart even Before, as a way station - food, drink, foot care, chiropractic, music, someone to talk to, a place to sleep - for weary rescue workers. I <3 St. Paul's.)
I had big plans to walk around the block of Huntington Park and the PU Club, sort of a triumphal "Return of the Almost Native" tour, admiring the scenery on such a fine day, and even reciting bits of Dylan Thomas' birthday Poem in October to mark the occasion. (I had WRITTEN parts of the poem down. By hand.) But I had gone to the gift shop, and then out the California street door, without thinking, and was downtown before I realized it. I struggled with going back and completing the symbolic gesture, but decided against it. Re-parking would be a hassle, I wanted to get home, and in so many ways, I had accomplished it, just by being there. And I was constantly thinking of what to me is the poem's "punch line":
"O may my heart's truth /Still be sung/On this high hill in a year's turning."