Embarcadero

I crawl into the back of my parent's scion tc and do the 180 degree spin into the seat. It is not unlike the crawl and spin move needed when I was a kid and getting into the back of station wagon. Back then, you see, station wagons didn't have third row seats that folded down; they just had a flat area that was useful for lugging plywood and kids. I am number seven of eight kids, so I was seldom alone in the back there.

But I am alone in the back of the scion. Just me and my parents off to the embarcadero to get coffee. To Peet's coffee. They know I head to Peet's most mornings when I visit them and are trying accommodate me. Please me and spend some time with me. This is not an easy thing to do.

My dad takes the car out of park and we head down the hill to 101. The hill is steep, with curves, and a brake testing stop sign. My dad could drive it in his sleep. We all can. We start talking about something, I don't remember what. What time my flight is, that Aidan has joined the school band, that my mom is visiting the doctor again on Monday. The scion back seats lean away from the front seats and for such a small car I feel like a bullhorn is needed to communicate between the front and back seat. Especially with my voice.

We take 101 and then the 280 extension to sixth street. We dive past AT&T park and comment on how nice the area has become since the Giants moved into this part of town. We drive past the future home of the Warriors which is right now just a slap on concrete extending into the bay. We park strategically, my dad always parks strategically. No meter charges here on a Sunday and just enough of a walk to Peet's. We walk, I take a picture of the bridge which looks strangely rural. My dad needs to take a rest so we stop on some benches. I take a picture of my parents.

We make it to the ferry plaza and all the shops inside. We stop at a bread store and get rolls. We take the rolls to the coffee shop. This is their routine. Rolls and then to the coffee shop. Sometimes coffee and then to the roll shop. Occasionally coffee and rolls at the same shop. I am an interloper and as such the major tension of the morning is whether I will order a bagel or a scone. I go with a roll. I am the son after all.

We make it to Peet's and my dad orders the coffee while my mom hunts for a table. We get one large regular and one large decaf. My mom's doctor recommended that she only drink decaf because of some problems she was having with her stomach. My dad likes the fully loaded stuff but buying three coffees just doesn't seem right. So he shares a bit with my mom and then has a small bit of mine. Peet's is strong enough. We eat our rolls.

We leisurely stroll out, past the tourists and the locals. We get back to the open air and all the happy people. Happy being the mind travelling perception when someone smiles and pushes a stroller past or when the run by. There are many runners. Watching and being watched. There are Giants fans getting off the ferry and walking to the ballpark. It is a glorious morning. Amidst the runners I am feeling neither old nor young. I am thinking about the passage of time and how fast it goes as you get older. That I remember my older brother at my age and that he seemed old then (sorry jim) as I must seem now. My dad needs to take another rest and I think of him 10 years older than I am now. How active he was then. How much of a man's man he was then. And he's still sharp and he's still getting buy but his body is slowly down. That at some point my mom became stronger physically. Heck, maybe she always was; she did have eight kids after all. But now she's the one who can get around better on her own after two knee replacement surgeries. She's the one trying to learn new things on the computer. Just the day before she asked me how she could email all the kids and I showed her. She really wanted to know despite being up half the night with stomach cramps. She would see the doctor again the next day and the news would not be good. Maybe she wanted to know how to email the kids because she had an idea the news would be bad. And when you have eight, well, being able to do things at scale is important. Like a station wagon.

I crawled into the back seat of the scion. It was a beautiful day.