Many moons ago, my wife, Cheryl, told me to pack a bag for a mysterious trip to celebrate 40th birthday. I did as I was told and before I knew it, we were in San Francisco. It was July and there was an odd combination of it being broiling hot and freezing cold in the same day.
It was that long weekend of exploration and romance in the City by the Bay that sparked this story. We took a nighttime walking tour of Chinatown and wandered the streets and alleys while being educated by a Chinese immigrant.
While the women of Chinatown who we saw hand-making fortune cookies did not resemble the young woman named Blossom in my imagination, their demure posture and rhythmic motions made an everlasting impression.
The kidnapping was truly an adventure. It was eye-opening. It was inspiring. It was the seed that grew in a novel called Blossom.