The Velo Rouge Cafe

The last few days, more than any ever, have illustrated just how ephemeral the events of our life really are. 

On Saturday, I graduated college. Before I even had time to contemplate on the event, it was over. It seems time was just always out of reach. No matter how hard I tried to grasp on to the moment of hugging my good friends for the last time, the force that moves the second hand perpetually forward ripped them from my arms. 

On Sunday, Athens and I split ways with a fitting goodbye. As I ran the streets around campus one last time, the sun refused to stay in the same place, and the pressure from my footprints on the pavement lifted with each swift step. 

On Tuesday, Leo and I reunited after three months apart, to the day. That moment had been played out in both our daydreams over and over. Although the actual moment was anything but anticlimactic - it too was fleeting. Those moments of pure joy, when nothing can touch you, move on to find their next benefactor; they leave only the outline of their presence in your memories. 

The Velo Rouge Cafe is on the corner of Arguello and McAllister, one block down from Golden Gate Park, and just down the hill from USF. It is "Bike to Work" day, and many happy employees and bikers are flying down the street, hollering and fraternizing. The woman at the counter knows someone from Americus, Georgia, and my oatmeal has gone cold. 

I know that trying to hold on to these moments is fruitless. The past few days have taught me well. In one sense, it doesn't really matter. In another, it really does.