I bought our lovely City pad as a single woman making the transition back to the Bay Area after many years of moving in and out of the area. It was the largest purchase I had ever made on my own, and I was so proud and happy to have a space that was mine. During those single times, I had a raging housewarming party, welcomed Book Club friends into my home, and had a quiet, beautiful space to come home to after long hours at the law firm. The view of the water and Coit Tower never got old. It still hasn't.
About six months after moving in, I met Mr. Curly Rosen. We spent some of our early dates in my neighborhood. A first kiss at a North Beach bar. A wine night on Hyde Street cuddled up on a couch. He asked me to be his girlfriend in my living room. He slowly made himself more at home in my home. We adopted Freddy just six months after meeting. We brought Freddy home to my City home, and he grew to love it, too.
Again about six months later (I sense a pattern here), new firsts happened. Mr. Curly Rosen asked me to marry him. We planned our wedding. He officially moved in. We melded our lives more and more together, with my home becoming our home. He got a man room. I didn't have to give up closet space.
Right after we got married, Mr. Curly Rosen carried me over the threshold into our apartment. We set off on our African honeymoon adventure and came home after a beautiful, magical three weeks to our City by the Bay. I started a new job. Months later, we found out we were (are) expecting, and I got to share the news with him in our kitchen.
Looking back, my years in my lovely City abode brought the most change and the most joy of any that I have known. I imagine that is the main reason that it is so hard to say goodbye to our beautiful home. Luckily, I get to bring that joy (Mr. Curly Rosen and little pup) with me down to the suburbs.
So, to you, pretty City place -- thank you for being the home of my independence, and later, the incubator of my precious family. You will be missed . . .
