A Brief Encounter in a Diner

“I didn’t dream of being a waitress at 49,” she says.
“What did you dream of being?” I ask.  And then I realize it’s entirely the wrong question, because past dreams don’t much matter, do they?  “What do you dream of now?”

“Six weeks,” she says, “I return to San Francisco.  To live with my daughter.”

So she dreams of bays and golden bridges.  Good luck to you, Karen, in San Francisco and beyond.

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