Sampson and I stayed at the Mark later than we should have. We drank a lot of beer, and finally closed the place down at around two. We were smart and sane and sober enough to leave our cars in the parking lot instead of driving home. John and I walked home under a bright moonlit sky. It reminded me of the two of us growing up in Southeast. We had to walk just about everywhere we went. Maybe we’d take a city bus if we were feeling flush. He dropped me off at my house and continued toward the Navy Yard and his place.
Early the next morning, I had to retrieve my car before I went to work. Nana was up with little Alex and I drank a half pot of her coffee, then put the boy in his stroller. He and I walked to my car.  The morning was clear and bright and the neighborhood seemed peaceful and quiet at around seven o’clock. Nice. I’ve lived on Fifth Street for thirty years, ever since Nana moved there from her old place on New Jersey Avenue. I still love the neighborhood, and it is home for the Cross family. I don’t know if I could ever leave.  ‘Daddy was with Uncle John last night,’ I bent down and talked to the boy as I pushed his blue- and white-striped stroller along. A nice-looking woman passed us on her way to work. She smiled like I was the best man in the history of the world, because I was walking my child this early in the morning. I didn’t believe it for a second, but I enjoyed the romanticized fantasy.
Little Alex likes to watch passing people, cars, the clouds streaming above his little head. He loves rides in the stroller and I like pushing him, talking or singing kiddie ditties as we go about our business.
‘See the wind blowing the tree leaves............