The Other Side of the World - Kate Bueler

The other side of the world. I am moving to the other side of the world. For as we write or speak, I am packing up my room in the redone attic after a serious heat spell to move from the pleasantville of noe valley to the urbaneness of the mission. It is in fact the other side of the world. What I leave behind is part warmth and the roll of the eyes for the neighborhood I sometimes I belong in. Nostalgic I am for where my great grandparents immigrated to a few blocks away for the streets my grandmother walked and rode the cable car down the street for the church where my grandparents married. For my father playing here as a child. All near me welcoming me home. My grandmother beginning and stories all felt today as real. I feel she is still with me especially when I walk upon the tree lined quietish streets even if people “forget” to clean up their dog poop and to stop at stop signs. See I belong here. Here in that this is my roots. Roots grown through my own ability to befriend my neighbors. I know storeowners names and they know mine. They mourn for the loss of me my face on a regular basis as I mourn for their yours.

But there are times I hate this neighborhood. When I can’t get by the doublewide strollers across the sidewalk. Twins all not natural I am sure. When I don’t have a dog. A dog because without a dog or kids you might be a leper in this hood. I get to borrow kids, the ones I nanny, but that can only get me by for so long. Also how everyone gets worked up over the little things so quintessential I am urban but still a yuppie. Like the movement to stop a street closure for people to roam. A place where there are so many pedestrians its hard to get through. But home this is-with my love and hate for it-is still home. And know I am moving to the other side of the world. The most suburban urban place will no longer be mine.

Soon my neighbors will be a non-practicing dominatrix and drag queen couple with a habit for hoarding sequin dresses. Oh and also the projects. Not the big large ones that are scary but the ones that look like condos. My neighbors will know be the hipsters and their tats. I am leaving the cheers of home. For convenience. For proximity to all the places I hang out anyway. For the peace of mind from a crazy landlord. For a backyard. And hardwood floors. And a bear claw tub. And so much.

But moving to the other side of the world really isn’t so far away. But the end. The goodbye. Not by my choice always feel the same. The same. I was put in a corner until I had no other choice but out. Out. I am leaving to the other side of the world. But this time I want to feel it all differently. In the new world of me. I am trying. Trying to not weep for loss and rejoice for the new day of school of beginnings. For I have moved to the other side of the world but this time I am just moving to the neighborhood next to me. Next to me. Goodbye could be just a see ya later. Which feels so much better than the end.