Last April, we had a winged visitor on our deck. The hummingbird’s trips to the sugar water had become more frequent. Peeking out from behind the patio’s glass doors, my husband and I followed her flight from the feeder. She landed right before our eyes, in an upturned fork of the overhanging bougainvillea. Her cup-shaped nest was made of thin twigs and speckled with bits of pale green. Inside, two eggs like alabaster were shaded by the …

          Last year I visited the city in which we became friends, and I tried to find that pie place. It must have closed at some point. I never knew its name or address, only that it was west of the expressway. I got off at every exit, muttering to myself that it had to be somewhere, even it was east of the sun and west of the moon. I wanted to find it and order four slices of pie and eat them with two forks—a bite for you, and a bite for me, …

          “Are you a doctor?”            The voice hangs in the air, speaks twice, before I realize that it is addressing me. The words come from a woman who has just squeezed in beside me on the concrete bench fixed to the subway platform. Many pounds overweight, hair crayon-yellow and frizzed beyond combing, she eyes my white pants and shoes, her eyes rimmed round with blue pencil like a …