But the differences now, three decades later, leading her sister’s children through the Wharf! Seema is acutely aware of Amina’s hijab, and Arshad’s prayer cap, and the accosting glances of the other tourists. Are they confused by her attire of jeans and sweater and what she’s doing accompanying these children? Pretending she’s cold, Seema shivers self-consciously, and pulls out a shawl from her bag, which she drapes over a shoulder and loops around her head. She’s aware Arshad has noticed, though he says nothing.

At the aquarium, a yellowtail balances on the tip of its nose, and Amina’s laughter is infectious. Everybody experiences gooseflesh at a wolf eel’s glare. A sleek seven-gilled shark slices through the water. There are rows of suckers on an octopus’s arms, like coins thrown at a fountain—but a swish, and they’re all gone!

For lunch, they have fries and grilled cheese sandwiches, Cherry Coke. Later ice cream, a banana split for Arshad, a chocolate cone with sprinkles for Amina that she doesn’t finish and ends up with Seema.

In the afternoon, the exploratorium. Here Arshad flies suspended in a mirror like Superman, and Amina joins him, his Supergirl. Later, a movie about the origins of the universe—whirling masses of gas, galaxies like far-flung roses—and Arshad watches transfixed, while Amina wanders off. They find her at an exhibit on sound, with unusual musical instruments made of wires, disks, balloons, and rubber bands. With her quick little fingers she improvises a tune on one of them.

“She can sing too,” Arshad says. “She sings very well.”

He urges his sister to show Seema, and Amina complies, without a trace of embarrassment or shyness, in a light clear voice. An Urdu song, an old melody from Seema’s childhood!

“She sings like an angel,” compliments a listening woman. “What’s she singing?”

It’s a song Tahera and Seema used to love, about a rocking horse that springs to life and runs away. Amina’s eyes shine with a soft concentrated happiness. When she finishes, Seema can’t help but lift her up and smother her with kisses.

The day ends on the Golden Gate Bridge. The bridge is a tongue of fire, lit by the sun’s dying rays. The children shiver in the stiff breeze blowing off the Pacific, but Arshad is adamant about walking the length of the bridge, and Amina is his willing follower. Seema gives in. Arshad wants to run ahead, but Seema insists the children hold her hand—the bridge is thronging with visitors, the curling waters of the bay are a steep drop below.