As I descend the stairs, the SFO train pulls into the platform. In a smooth gait, I am drawn onto the train and ride out to the airport, as if this is my direction.
How easy it would be to go thru the turnstile, head to delta, and catch a plane.
I stumbled off the BART, tugged towards the planes and as I fumble through my pockets in search of my BART ticket, I remember: my daughter has vanished - and vanquished me and my questions, my doubts, my challenges, my energy - with her child, folding to the pressure of CPS.
And I have a fateful meeting, this afternoon, with CPS, that could be insignificant or striking.