Suzy Says

Most of the year, I set off for work in the darkness. There might be three months or so when this is not the case. If you don’t live in the country, it will be hard for you to understand how very dark the darkness is. There is no ambient light, so the stars, moon, and planets blaze in the black sky. If there’s no fog and a full moon, when I arrive at the junction of work (the highway) and home (the Ridge), where I first see the ocean, there is a glorious silver trail of moonlight across the dark water, a sight I never get tired of seeing.

Between the reflective paint and the cats’ eyes on the highway, the first of the nine bridges I cross to get to work looks like an airport runway. I am always surprised by how much traffic is heading south, away from the Big Town. Where are they going? To Santa Rosa? To the City? I am often the only car heading to the Big Town in the morning, sometimes until I reach the outskirts of the Village or even the town itself. To be fair, I leave the house somewhere around 6 am on work days.

Crossing the Big River bridge, with its long curve, I always breathe in and try to take in its special energy. There’s something magical about that place, an estuary where the river meets the ocean. It’s so beautiful.

As I approach the Village, I can see the flash of the lighthouse at Point Cabrillo, site of the wreck of the Frolic in 1850, which led to the settlement of the area as scavengers searched for the ship’s rich cargo, but discovered redwoods instead, the beginning of the area’s settlement and the beginning of the lumber business that is still economically important. The lighthouse was later immortalized in the delightful movie The Majestic. You can still tour the lighthouse’s magnificent Fresnel lens a couple of times a year, and the lighthouse pretty much any day. It’s worth a visit.

Recently, I realized that going to work in the darkness isn’t really anything new for me. When I lived in the City, I worked market hours, which meant getting to work when the New York Stock Exchange opened, at 6 am Pacific time. I walked from my Jazz Age condo in Pacific Heights to my sky high office building in the Financial District. To get there, I walked through the Tenderloin, which is still, in this age of gentrification, a little on the sketchy side.

In those days, and at that time of day, night met day like the river meets the sea at Big River, though with perhaps a little less magic and poetry. I’d see people making their way home after a night of serious partying, or heading home after a one night stand while others, like me, were on their way to work. Sex workers were out in full force, and I was surprised by how much business there was at that time of day. It seemed odd to me then and odd to me now that men on their way to work would pick up a hooker instead of (or perhaps in addition to) a coffee. Sex is pretty much the last thing on my mind on my way to work and at work, but then, I am not of the male persuasion.

Now, instead of worrying about homeless people or being grabbed on my way to work, I worry about hitting a deer or maybe driving off the Ridge in the fog. You never know what you’ll find in the dark, whether you live in the country or the city.

A YEAR AGO: Not much rain then, either. Maybe it’s not all that surprising I ran out of water.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Noticing the magic moments in everyday life.

TEN YEARS AGO: Beginning to feel a little better.