Four years ... Forepaugh's. Yes, we chose the restaurant for our anniversary dinner based on the shared syllable! It was a good choice — a big, old, Victorian house in a quiet neighborhood of St. Paul (hmm ... not unlike the big, old, Victorian house where we had our wedding reception). I'd been there once before, on a date long before I met Steve. He hadn't been there since his eighth-grade graduation party. It wasn't very busy so we had a room to ourselves. The food (bruschetta, pork tenderloin with a plum sauce, asparagus with bearnaise sauce) and drink (pomegranate martini, pinot noir) were delicious. And they don't rush you, so we had plenty of time to talk and reflect on the amazing year gone by — and dream about what the next year will hold. Mainly, that was about children. Will we try to have more? Will we go through fertility treatments again, and if so, when will we start? Do we have the emotional energy to do that right now? Will we look into adopting a baby? If so, will it be a girl from China? From India? From South America? A mixed-race baby from the United States? What would that be like for our family, to add an adopted child? I've been heartened by the number of people I've heard say lately that their capacity for love astounds them. I have no doubt that an addition to our family — no matter how he or she joins us — would be embraced with the fullest of hearts.
We'd left Daniel home with a wonderful babysitter, but he has such stranger anxiety right now that it's agonizing to leave the house to the sound of his wailing. We couldn't quite get it out of our heads all evening, so it was nice to go home, eventually, and find him sleeping in Maria's arms. We ate a slice of anniversary cake and all fell into bed together, exhausted.