Thursday, October 27, 2011
"I don't know if it's good. But we get every single meal there."
That seemed like enough of a recommendation. And so we hiked our way up the hill, and we walked into Capital Restaurant. Everyone turned around and looked at us, and that seemed like a pretty good sign.
We ate wonton noodle soup with barbecued pork. Every bit of it.
Then last night, we ate Burmese food at hands down the most recommended place in this city, a little clean and coconut smelling joint called Burma Superstar. We met family we haven't seem in a long time, and we played it cool and kept track of our own worth. We worked out of love, and remembered that this is our work.
On our way home, we went to Maria's pastry and we sat with a napoleon and coffee. It was dark as we made our way back.
My mother and I walked into the night, and, unsure of what bus might take us home, we hopped on the trolley car with the late night tourists, all abuzz with meals and city walks. The road was steep, and the air was clear, and as we passed California Street, my mother said, there! That's where I lived with your father. We slept on blankets.
I was born here in this city, you know.
I have been away from the girls for nearly a week now. I'm thinking of their cheeks and their hugs, and their asking everything of me. I want to go home. I want to answer everything for them.
And Joey. He went home on Sunday morning, after our sweet friends were married, but before my mother came out so that we could do the family work we came to do. He's waiting for me at home as the snow falls. California's got nothing on an October snow. I can't believe I'm missing out on such weather. I'm ready to go home to him, too.
Tomorrow is our last day. I think we might go back to the ferry building, for coffee and cheese. And California will do it's thing, and then we will say goodbye.