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It was the on set of summer. The night time after the first of the few days in the bay that could actually be considered hot. I was living in El Cerritto in the house at the top of the hill with a view of the bay that some would feel compelled to describe as sweeping. It was late and I could not sleep, not because of the heat. My room was built into the slop of the hill and protected by the sun for most of the day by the house and the drive way that ran from the road up the slope to the garage built at the top of the house and would remain cool when nothing else would.
It wasn't the heat but it was still the weather, it was beautiful and to be inside, in bed, was to waste it. Even at two a.m. I was restless and needed to stretch my legs and for some reason I wanted some fruit. I walked to the twenty four hour Safeway down at the base of the hill.
I bought a couple of plums and rinsed them in the spray of a buried sprinkler that was on a timer to run in the middle of the night and ate them as I walked back up the hill. I remember the plumbs were big and plump and juicy but I can't remember if they were ripe and sweet or still held a tart bite. All I know is I ate the dark fruit as the steep incline started to slow my pace and speed my breathing and burn my legs. The city glimmered in the dark across the bay below me.
Every time I eat a plum now all I can think about is going for a walk.
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