A Sign from the Universe
It doesn’t get any clearer than this.
I took this photo on Saturday, August 29 exactly two years ago. It was the same weekend Kyle surprised me with a plane ticket to San Francisco five days before I moved to Sumatra.
I remember this sign. I remember walking towards Hayes Valley from Alamo Square after visiting the Painted Ladies holding Kyle’s hand. I remember stopping dead in my tracks with the stupidest smile on my face thinking, “Okay, Universe. I see you.”
It felt as if the sign was hand carved and placed strategically on that random street for me to find. My heart was wide open to all of life’s happenings. My optimism and positivity were soaring despite the recent devastation in my life. I was about to embark on this magnificent journey to far corners of the earth. I snapped this photo as a reference point to see how significantly different things would be in a year’s time. As far as I was concerned, this was the first day of the rest of my life.
Having this appear now after being buried in the archives and admittedly forgotten, I misinterpreted it’s meaning during our fortuitous encounter.
This wasn’t about Sumatra. Or the orangutan research. Or ignoring every one’s common sense and taking a blind leap into the unknown. This wasn’t about accomplishing the one dream I always envisioned for myself or the significant changes I went through. No. It wasn’t about that at all.
It was about him.
It was always about him.
This was the first day we ever said I love you in person. This was the first day I didn’t feel like I had to suppress how I felt or how much he meant to me or pretend like we were only friends. I could finally kiss him when the whole world was watching and not be ashamed or feel like there was something to hide. This was the first day I loved him out loud with every fiber of my being. This was the first day I fell asleep in his arms knowing everything would work out as it should.
This sign wasn’t for me. This sign was meant for us.
This day was the first day of the rest of our lives.
We just didn’t know it yet.
I pulled a quote about The Temple installation we visited in Hayes Valley (pictured above) from the Burning Man website:
Community members are welcome to write the names of, or messages to, lost loved ones, and/or their aspirations and thoughts on the temple’s walls. As people contribute to the piece, the space becomes a communal expression of very personal experiences, creating a new sense of affinity among participating community members.
His: Good morning sunshine.
Hers: Live a great story.
Both tributes to the most beautiful women either of us have ever lost.