Tonight I took you and the dog on one of my favorite activities: a night walk to the Parc Monceau on a crisp, clear October evening.
I’ve been doing this for a couple of years now, and I love bundling up in a sweater coat, scarf, hat, tights and boots, and how the sky turns a dark satiny blue against the black trees of the park. There’s always still lots of people in the park, lots of joggers doing circles. The dog has been my companion for the past few years, but now, as the walk is getting too much for her, I’ve taken to putting her in the stroller basket underneath you. She lays back and seems to enjoy the ride. (As a matter of fact, she tends to look up at me with a look of “why didn’t you think to buy one of these things before?”)
I remember last October, walking to the park on a clear late October night with my father on his visit to Paris and the dog, and, having just had a positive line on the stick, thinking about how, at this time the next year, I would most likely be pushing you around the park.
And so it is.