A brunch in Manhattan

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We sat at the Smith, and it felt like it was too early. But in reality, we were having a late brunch. I don’t remember what we ordered between the four of us, but it was a lot of food. I do remember that it was pouring down rain outside, and we had walked there from our hotel. The day felt unreasonably dark, even for New York City in October.

There were only a few of us in the restaurant that morning. Of course, it was a workday, and we were the tourists having a late brunch on a rainy day. It was probably Tuesday. I know with less than 100% certainty that it was Tuesday because we always fly out on Tuesdays and we were flying out later that afternoon.

Usually, grabbing a late meal with a friend in a city drenched in rain where the splatter from the street is dirty would not be my ideal. I would have suggested a different day. But we only saw him every once in a while since he moved to Boston for school, and this had to happen. Sofie was growing up too fast without this honorary uncle of hers.

I liked the vibes in this place, even with it being half empty. It had black and white tiles on the floor and white subway tile on the walls. Dropped, spherical ceiling lamps and black leather booths gave it an industrial feeling. But what I liked most about it was how cozy it felt to be sitting with our friend, eating a meal, chatting about who knows what with him as he doted on our daughter while it poured down rain outside.

That was 2019. And that was the last time we saw him until a few months ago when he came to Seattle for Ben’s birthday. And maybe that’s why I hang onto the memory of a brunch that didn’t leave me wanting more food.

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