“Kate! Ali’s in the hospital!” my friend said frantically over the phone last Sunday.

I had been back in San Francisco for less than 24 hours. I arrived at SFO to be promptly greeted by a robotic coffee stand drawing a crowd of tourists snapping pictures, a stranger casually working her three company exits into our passing conversation, and the signature chilly blanket of fog. Any rose-colored glasses I’d been wearing whenever I imagined this place were knocked right off — I was back in my old home.

That Sunday I sat down at a coffee shop to finish my last edition of this here newsletter. Mornings are quiet in San Francisco. The sound of birds chirping makes up for the lack of human hustle and bustle. Despite being up before the rest of this sleepy town, I had a feeling I would bump into someone here. San Francisco, though it pretends to be a big city, is in fact a small town. And sure enough, before long my friend’s co-founder caught my eye and sat down to chitchat over a cappuccino, prompting me to reach out to our mutual friend to let him know I was in town.

“I’m actually about to grab lunch with Michael, join us!” Ali texted nearly immediately. The brunch spot was of course only a 15-minute walk away — a blessing of living in a city only 7 miles by 7 miles — so off I went to spontaneously catch up with two old pals (this friend-group combination making a trio I'm not sure had ever dined together before).

The day unfolded over coffee, an apartment open house where the realtor delicately tried to discern if we were a polycule, and an environmental activism event in the Panhandle, led by entirely earnest high school students. We had finally sat down on Hippie Hill to enjoy the deliciously curated beats from the drum circle when I got the call from my friend Katie.

But how could Ali be in the hospital? He was sitting right next to me!

“I should backtrack,” she explained. “Other Ali dislocated his shoulder at soccer. His phone's dead, we're not sure exactly where he is. Could you guys go track him down and be there for him?”

So this unlikely trio started walking again, en route to find a fourth friend none of us had planned to see that day. Sitting in the hospital waiting room a short while later, it dawned on me just how lucky I was to have a community in this town deep enough that we bump into each other at coffee shops and show up for each other at hospitals.

The serendipity continued all week. A YouTube subscriber sweetly asked for a photo. My old yoga teacher crossed my path four separate times (hadn't seen him since 2024… I think we might be dating at this point?). Old roommates, old friends, and new ones!

San Francisco gets a funny rep — tech capital, shit-on-the-streets, sleepy. But my experience of Baghdad-by-the-Bay has been far from that. Sure, it's not a metropolis like New York. It's more of a vibrant village. And in this village, time and time again, people show up.

And yet… I'm not sure San Francisco is where I'm supposed to land.

As I traipsed up to the top of Twin Peaks for what felt like the 1,001st time in my life, or watched the city go past me from the window of an autonomous vehicle, I kept bumping into the same thought: I've walked these streets so many times my body navigates them intuitively. I am acutely familiar with this place. I’ve been here before, I know what I’m getting.

If I were to return, would I be able to find a new life force to draw from, or would I settle into a routine, complacent in my personal growth? Is familiar what I need, or would I be choosing it because it's easy? I don't want to return to San Francisco by default.

So I’m left asking myself: Is San Francisco my village? Or is it a village that I happen to love dearly — one that shaped my early twenties, but isn't necessarily where I build what comes next? Should I instead be focusing on establishing myself somewhere new? Even with my eggs on ice somewhere in FiDi, I'm nearing 30, and that's something I should think about seriously. This town can be so full of people myopically focused on their careers that other goals fall by the wayside. I dream of having a back patio to host parties. Of dating someone who shares my values around family. Can I find that here?

Do I deepen the roots I’ve already established? Or do I find somewhere new to plant some fresh sprouts?

As I pack up to venture on to the next city, I'm open-minded to whatever awaits!