Happily running uphill

A pretty girl runs through San Francisco’s Financial District, high as a kite on giddy love of self and love of her beloved. She is a streak, an unlikely runner in white blouse and flowy brown linen skirt, all wild hair and little feet, all traces of makeup gone from her face. She runs past the willowy women in heels and the men in stiff suits.

Yesterday this scene reminded me of Carrie Bradshaw in one of my favorite SATC episodes, when she hopped over puddles in her silver Manolos. Yesterday evening, I had just gotten off the phone with Soldier and I was racing to get to Nob Hill Auditorium to hear Don Cheadle speak out about Darfur. I felt invincible, not in an arrogant Manifest Destiny way, but in a I’m getting back to my real self and loving it way.

I’m in love. I’m getting motivated again about social justice and humanitarian causes. I’m strong enough to rush up Nob Hill in 10 minutes, seven city blocks, past a robust white girl in athletic gear.

It feels good to be back.

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