By Melissa Pandika, Mic, September 30, 2020
“You can see — the sky,” my dad said with boyish wonder in his voice when my family and I moved to California from New York City nearly 25 years ago. He later developed a habit of reclining on the diving board that hovered above the kidney-shaped swimming pool behind our house outside San Francisco, marveling at the expanse overhead, uninterrupted by buildings and utterly blue. I’d shrug off his awe, preoccupied with what I considered more pressing matters, like navigating the new awkwardness of adolescence.
Now, I understand what moved him.
My partner and I spent the past few months visiting his parents in Pennsylvania. We’d planned to return to Berkeley by early September, but decided to extend our stay once the wildfires broke out. The second week of September, he showed me a video of San Francisco set to the Blade Runner score, the sky a sickly orange.
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