Chapter 23, Mom’s Secret Puppet Shadow, Dad Rescues Her, I Lose My Mother! free porn video
Sunday morning, arising early at the Sainte Clare Hotel where I always stayed when visiting San Jose, I was tempted to drive by our former house and Edward's apartment before visiting Mom. Instead, I drove to Alviso, to seek again its mystical connection with Dad which evaded me.
Even Alviso, however, had changed in Silicon Valley’s metamorphous. Val's was still there but was operated by a niece of the deceased elderly woman who fussed over Gary and me. The salt ponds were converted to a national park with swarming crowds instead of the soothing loneliness they once provided. The estuaries were filled with kayakers. Throngs trekked the railroad tracks and levees and read park historical, cultural and environmental explanation signs. None matched Gary’s narrative as related to me. His, perhaps less accurate, was the better.
Lane's, more decrepit, still stood. I parked the car, walked to it, leaned against its wood wall and reminisced of a passing train kiss. I didn't trek the rail line with others to the drawbridge. With nothing else to connect with, I left to visit Mom. Lafayette Street had morphed into a highway. I noticed Agnew State Mental Hospital complex was now occupied by Sun Microsystems.
Where are they now? They're our street homeless. The cuckoo’s nest hatchlings are camping in downtown, begging at the crosswalks.
Like Dad’s and Mom’s past, mine’s also was gone. It’s as if the farmhouse I was born in never existed. The Valley’s change had left me homeless too.
As I drove, I weighed my mother in law’s revelation and decided it best was kept as an ultra-secret. It, however, renewed my curiosity about my parents. I decided to ask Mom how she met Dad.
I took Mom to brunch in the little downtown of Willow Glen which had revitalized into an upscale boutique shop and trendy restaurant street. Afterward, we drove to our old Tropicana Village neighborhood. Our house and street looked so much smaller than remembered but were less tawdry than when we lived there. We stopped at the church of my wedding. The sign in front announced times of mass in Tagalong, Spanish and Vietnamese. Mom chuckled.
“Wow Mom, we'd fit right in now.”
Next, we went to Dad's grave at Santa Clara Mission Cemetery with flowers for his headstone proclaiming, "No Sad Songs."
Fawn
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