We went to Mexico today

Again, totally bemoaning the fact that I forgot my mini SD card for my camera. Not that anything out of the ordinary is happening, oh wait—yes—the neighbors across the street are setting fire to their entire lawn! My grandma’s husband’s brother’s wife passed away and now her house is going to be occupied by one of her granddaughters, her husband, and their children. It’s been sitting unoccupied since she died years ago and now that the lawn has grown to be considered a small forest—it seems the smart thing to do is to set it afire to make the yard habitable again. In already 100 degrees weather, mind you, surrounded by other lawns that while not forest-like are also very very dry. They are standing around with buckets in their hands—presumably to put out the fire. Now if only they thought of this in California, why many an uncontrollable wildfire may have been prevented.

I shoot one picture with my camera’s internal memory and just spectate the rest of the event. The smell is intoxicatingly wonderful, but the smoke becomes too much to bear and I go back inside. They actually managed to successfully put the fire out later with the few buckets of water too.

Bonus fun fact: I am related to someone who lives in every single house you can see in this picture.

Later we walk the streets of downtown Miguel Aleman and go shopping while being accosted by street beggars. I don’t have any change on me anyway, but if I did—I’d give it to the man and the kid, who I assume is his son, playing the trumpet while the kid beats away on the drums effortlessly and without missing one beat. They don’t make eye contact with us as we walk by—they just keep playing.

Back at my parent’s house on this side of the Rio Grande, my dad, mom, and grandma all lose their glasses seemingly at the same time. They’re all wearing a pair, just not their own—so nobody can see enough to find the pair that belongs to them. My brother suggests that they all trade glasses and after a few swaps—every pair of glasses is returned to their rightful owner and all is right in a world—that everyone can once again see in.

Post a Comment

Your email is never published nor shared.