is to sit beneath the November sun as it does its slow low roll across the cool blue sky.
But no.
I remember sitting on a park bench one sunny lunch hour on upper California Street, on the edge of Chinatown. April of '92? I was still wearing a dress shirt and tie to work every day at that time, but I had at least rolled up my sleeves and loosened the tie and was just floating in the warmth for a few minutes before I had to go back to my desk.
Teri and I had been trying to have a second child for a while at that point but Fate was fucking with us; miscarriage after miscarriage. The doctors were unable to find any cause.
So that was on my mind. I suddenly thought, all I want, I swear, is to have one more little baby who'll be able to feel this warm sun on their face. That's all.
I will admit with some shame that, though I got that wish, I did not remain in a permanent state of gratitude and fulfillment as I'd wordlessly promised. Working on it, though.
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