I Didn’t Move to San Francisco to Recreate the Past

Visiting a few times last year quietly pulled us into a nostalgic phase. Memories surfaced easily. Familiar streets. Old feelings. But even then, I never imagined we’d actually find ourselves living here again.

The first time we moved to San Francisco, it was for my husband’s job. We were raising kids, juggling schedules, moving fast. I loved this city then, but I didn’t really see it. Life was loud. Full. Busy in the way that leaves little room to pause.

Almost 30 years later, we returned for a very different reason. This move was about choosing ease… less time in traffic, more public transportation, and a rhythm that feels gentler on the body and the mind as we move into a slower season. That it also coincides with my husband marking 30 years with the same company that first brought us here feels quietly meaningful.

We’re not retired yet, but we’re closer to it than we were back then, and this return feels like easing into what comes next.

That shift has changed how I move through my days.

Now I notice the light.
The quiet corners.
The way neighborhoods each have their own rhythm.

I’m not rushing through my days anymore. I’m walking more. Sitting longer. Letting moments stretch instead of squeezing them in between responsibilities.

There’s something deeply grounding about returning to a place that once held a version of you… and meeting it again as someone new.

It feels full circle in the best way. Not nostalgic. Not sad. Just aware. Grateful. Present.

San Francisco feels familiar and new all at once.
And so do I.

And somehow, it feels right.

Every step we take is a step toward our true selves.
Thanks for walking part of this path with me.
🩶 Meesh