Savor

I love people. I just love them. I love what people have to say, the stories they have. The stories that have become so tightly interwoven into their history that people swear those experiences make them exactly who they are. I love unraveling their history, having the privilege to listen and converse. 

There are some people here that I'm so grateful for. There are people here, that I instantly connected with, I was just too blinded by the fear of being here to see it. 

One in particular, is the lovely Jessica Chan. I've mentioned her many times, just like I mention Lara, Morgan, Chloe, and others. Today Jessica and I met up at my favorite cafe/restaurant for a cappuccino: Camera a Sud. 

I still can't even explain how much I love this place. It's perfect. So laid back, relaxed. With the soft cool jazz always playing in the background, the eclectic decorations. Everywhere there are books, stacked almost to the top of the ceiling. The place seems disorganized, but is in fact so orderly. And clean. Between the collection of funky books, there are half burnt candles, empty wine bottles, and a mannequin dressed in a super cute 1950's red polka dot dress. 

The cafe is divided into three separate rooms. Jessica and I plopped ourselves down in the middle room, me on the worn out leather sofa, her on the worn out leather chair across from me. The seats are crammed into an intimate corner. We sat there and chatted, waiting for our cappuccinos, unveiling our life stories. So excited to learn about each other, as we leaned toward each other in interest. 

Near where I was sitting there is a quote on the wall that says, "Il jazz non
e' morto, ha solo un odore un po' curioso." It's a quote by Frank Zappa that means, "Jazz is not dead it just smells funny." 

Her and I talked about so much. How college and this experience have opened up our worlds, how grateful we are for having such supportive parents, each subject peeling back another layer. After deciding what we would be making for lunch (two amazing pizzas by the way, unfortunately crust was not made from scratch) we finally go to that point where we looked at each other and said, you're fantastic and I'm going to miss you so much. We had that moment where we each thought, how am I just meeting this person? How has it been that I have only known you for so little? 

And the truth is. I've had so many interactions like that with the people here so far. Moments where we just completely opened up, laid our souls, our very own essence, completely on the table, said this is who I am, this is what I've gone through, and this is what I'm going through. We've divulged things to the point where it nearly brings us to tears, almost surprising us by the fact that we're sitting there realizing: "Wow, this is the first time I've ever been able to talk to someone about this."

But with that being said, my interactions here with people have made me realize how little I savored my life in Berkeley. I tried, but that's the thing, "I tried." We shouldn't have to try to enjoy our lives or the people around us.  It should just happen. And for reasons I can't explain, I just took the people in my life -- the ones who mattered most -- and my surroundings, for granted. Never ever again will that happen. Ever. Some people, some things, and some moments are too precious to lose, to forego, to let slip away. 

If there's anything I've learned here, it's to savor. Savor, savor, savor. Savor the taste of food, the scents, the autumn breezes. The talks, the walks, the cold. The biting cold. The misery, the joy. The effort, the loss. The dreams, the sweets. The slaps in the face. The hugs and embraces. The sound. The smoke. The haze. The dew, the new, the old. The tears, the burning laughter. The honesty. Desire. And those thoughts, those endless, endless thoughts.