Joe and I went to San Francisco. We kissed our children good-bye, boarded a miniature airplane and flew to cali.

For the first time in years, we had four entire days to ourselves.

We took the BART into the city and showed up on the streets of the mission in the early-morning, street-sweeping hours.

Our time in San Fran was filled with: walks by the sea, skys filled with cypress, empanandas on valencia, rides on the BART,

hotel-room-bed-jumping, glimpses of fog, the golden gate bridge at dusk, french dinners with old friends,

hikes into the redwoods to bavarian lodges with old friends, north beach at night with old friends, the smell of eucalyptus,

latin dance night at the make out room, watching gulls from the ferry building, live street opera, a $12 rice-a-roni street car ride,

the purchase of poorly made items in chinatown, beers at the grove, a sighting of alcatraz, ice-cream at Dolores Park,

accidental exploration of the tenderloin, and a view of the city at night from the top of the world.

When we said good-bye, I cried a little ‘frisco tear. But then we came home to our babies and we kissed them hello.

And we told them all about the hills and the streetcars and the fog that rolls in like quiet thunder.

Now that we are home, the golden gate bridge tip-toes through my dreams

and i’m pretty sure that there is still a little bit of fog tangled in my hair.