“How does it feel?” And I start to cry. I close my eyes and the tears run down and I sit up tall and let the handlebars go and just drift like that, down California Street, toward the calm, pulsing ocean. “I forgot about this,” I say. “No you didn’t, otherwise you wouldn’t be back.” “Is it too late? Will I ever be where I was?” “You’ll be far beyond that.” “But—” “Look. Let’s make a list.” “What?” “A list.”
