Around this time, a friend mentioned that her son, his wife, and two children were considering moving to Brooklyn when they finished their teaching commitments in the Congo. I could see them easily fit into Park Slope or Carroll Gardens with their tow-headed darlings. I smiled and nodded, fighting back a scream of lament. Why was it so easy for some people to have beautiful children and move to a city I’d nearly turned into a distant idol, while both seemed impossible for us?