Finding Myself in San Francisco, USA

I needed an adventure. At the age of 28, with two daughters ages 9 and 3, I told my husband I was going away for a few days. I had never traveled alone; and in fact was beginning to feel that I’d never truly been alone besides small moments here and there. I needed to be me—not mom, not wife—just me. 

They dropped me off at the airport. I went in the bathroom and cried. I had never been away from my kids for more than a quick overnight getaway. I took a deep breath and got on that plane. 

I had been to San Francisco once before, with husband and baby and in-laws. I had fallen in love with the city and knew I wanted to go back. 

I explored, I ate, I took in all the sights and smells and it was glorious. I went where I wanted, when I wanted, with only myself to care for. I watched the Chinese New Year Parade in a torrential downpour. I was soaked and freezing and deliriously happy. 

On the third day, I fell. I hurt my foot and ankle quite badly. In true adventurer fashion I wrapped it up in an Ace bandage, popped a few Advil and went on my merry way—walking and riding public transport, I might add. The famous San Francisco hills proved to be too much, and by the end of the day it was swollen, hideous shades of black, blue and purple, and incredibly painful. 

I only had one more full day and was extremely disappointed. I decided to go on a bus ride so that I could keep my foot elevated most of the time and wouldn’t have to walk too much. I found a route that went across the bay to the Marin Headlands, which I had never been to before. 

I arrived and hobbled off the bus and sat down on a nearby bench. It was breathtaking. I turned my face toward the sun and closed my eyes, listening to the water and feeling the breeze and slight ocean spray. There weren’t too many people around, and those that did come went off hiking or cycling. For a moment I felt a pang of jealousy, but then I looked around once more. 

How could I not be filled with gratitude that I got to be in this beautiful place, alone, with no pressure to be anywhere else? I took a deep breath and smiled. I noticed a spider spinning a web nearby, and was mesmerized by the intricacy and watched for several minutes. Eventually I got up and walked around a bit, only to come back to the bench and simply be. 

I stayed for a few hours in silent observation, soaking in every moment, and by the time I got back on the bus I was ready for the journey home; ready to be mom and wife once again, now that I had reclaimed and recharged ME.

About the Author: Beth Leyba is a Denver native and mom to two awesome kids. An aspiring writer, her work has been featured on The Huffington Post, The Good Men Project, Elephant Journal and more. She hasn’t traveled extensively but manages to have adventures wherever she goes, be it across the country or in her beloved Colorado mountains.

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