SFFD: San Francisco Fire Department

It was the perfect place to have a fire department. Perhaps today, someone needed saving. A shiny, ruby red boat, sits upon the shores of the bay, resplendent as it is docked under the Bay Bridge, its spires brilliantly flickering against the dusky sky of cerulean blue, lavender, and pink. The firehouse is old and long, a white wooden shack of supplies.

Traffic home will be over an hour. So it only makes sense to stop here, to gather my thoughts and be thankful for another wonderful day, put aside those thoughts that tried to keep it from being wonderful, those thoughts being washed away much like the sounds of the water below me. The ferry moves in the distance, a ferry I have taken many times over, thinking many of the things I am thinking of now. Skateboarders are behind me while sea gulls skirt the plane of the water showing them a thing or two about skill.

Behind them, I hear the roar of the traffic, joining the cacophony of sounds droning above us all on the bridge, while a fire truck reverses its caboose into the house, indicated by the still American Flag hanging from the top front of the building. The Hills Bros Coffee sign is lit, bright red, a San Francisco icon. There’s a party to my left, dressed up in whites and blacks, ready for a fancy dinner. And of course, there are others just like me, looking out into the sea, marveling at our shared experience.

What am I thinking?
I am thinking of love, of course.
I am thinking of my family, many of whom are my friends.
I am thinking of my friends, many of whom are family.
And of course, I am thinking of my dog. I always think of my dog.
Taylor.