Big City Night

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I asked Kate about the leaves - if they are really just turning now - in the car after she picked me up from my hotel, and she smiled and nodded. "These deciduous trees aren't native," she said, and I realized my whole view on the Bay - probably even life itself - was colored by Eastern winters. She swooped down after work to ferry me across the Bay into San Mateo, and then north into San Francisco and the Mission District, where I ate a half chicken with roasted vegetables and chocolate cake. Rob drank wine and coffee even though he was not quite over a bout of flu. Kate ate half her empanada and then rubbed her belly and looked uncomfortable, and she probably was, being near eight months pregnant. Back in the car, when Kate pulled up to the hotel, I gave her the Mother Goose book hoping that their child might find some joy in it. Maybe it's the book, or subconscious desire, or a biological clock, I've been dreaming about children and parenting this week.

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