CONTRIBUTED BY KARA WAITE (Somerville, MA)
On the flight from Berlin to Prague, I had the aisle seat.Bored with my magazine, I convinced Nate to meet me in the first-class bathroom. After we’d finished, I went out first and climbed into his seat.
I pressed my face against the cool, thickly glassed window and thought about the two of us having a honeymoon baby.
We did not get pregnant in Prague as I’d have liked so much to say. But, even now, unpacking German beer steins and Czechoslovakian absinthe, I like to imagine we did.
I like to think: He will be a sweet, charming baby, little Natty. He won’t look anything like Nate. You’ll hardly be able tell he’s my son. Most of the family will say he favors you, in fact. But, even still, I will love him. You’ll see.
When he cries—as he’ll do, interrupting Thanksgiving dinner—I’ll come running with my blouse half-opened.
