One week ago in the morning, I rode a borrowed bike down out of the foothills above the city of Santa Barbara. First we biked through suburban neighborhoods, then turned to follow a paved trail beside a river, under the freeway, past active farmland, and directly to the beach. We biked a few yards beside the ocean, then turned slightly away from the sands onto campus.
The sky was deep blue. I could hear bird song and smell blooming flowers in the air. Trees, lawns, and the foothills to the north were bright green and lush. Sunlight dappled the path.
Breathing deeply, I asked myself, why don't I work in Santa Barbara?
This morning, back in my mountain home, the mountains were hidden under heavy clouds. Thick white snowflakes fell from the sky, covering any hints of green. Bird song was replaced by the sounds of cars sloshing over a slushy road. We pulled out coats and scarves again, bundled up, and went off to school and work.
Sighing deeply, I asked myself, why don't I work in Santa Barbara?
And both days, the answer to the question was easy.
Because, unlike my colleague with the spare bicycle, I don't actually have a job in Santa Barbara. That's why.
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2 comments:
Having a job does make a difference. I love Santa Barbara, but couldn't afford it unless the lottery dropped in my lap!
that is pretty much how I felt/feel about Seattle. I can't get it out of my head! But that pesky job thing is an impediment.
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