The House on Glennan Drive: Redwood City, California 1969

You have been in hiding, in the dark, for several hours. Anxiety heightening with every booming tick tock and your shocked mind races over the growing list: the Baby is coming, no place to live, hiding out from the neighbors, no food, no money, no friends, absolutely no money. You keep the curtains drawn and don't make a peep. This was a house of the pack-em-in era, so close together you know pretty much all your neighbor’s secrets. The only bright sunlight came in through the sliding door windows off the family room at the end of the galley kitchen, and one lone window over the sink in the mornings. These windows looked over the back yard and the Doughboy pool. A soak in the pool would have been so nice, some air, even if it was smoldering hot, would have been so nice. Instead, you clean over and over, then when everything seems clean as can be, you make a regular tour of the kitchen hoping to discover food. 

You find condiments, one can of oily tuna, and a couple packets of Kool Aid in the cupboards. Ice cubes in the freezer and half a can of frozen orange juice, quite a treat, waiting for just the right needy moment. David was more inclined toward the garage where he knew both his mom and dad had stashes of beers and booze. You make your first night’s dinner, one half a can each of the tuna, eaten bite for bite with a whole sour dill pickle. David offers you a beer and drinks them both when you remind him you're pregnant and don't even drink beer. You fill up on water and wake up to a stifling house still dark with the closed curtains, but the sun had beat the comfort out of it. You search the kitchen again, hoping to discover some crafty edibles you may have missed yesterday and miraculously, you do find eggs. You serve them soft boiled, one apiece.