Monday, July 25, 2016

LXXVI. Vecinos


Last night my lovely wife and I had our customary margaritas on the patio and a smoke. It was time to clean up for dinner—still a little light outside, around 8 pm is my guess—and we’d been hearing good-natured and loud laughter from out front. I investigated, opened the gate and was greeted by a half dozen guys, including my neighbor Francisco, gathered in the cobblestone street around a dark green pickup truck I had never seen before. Francisco’s wife sitting on the narrow sidewalk, against the wall, their kids floating around with smiles. A few other wives. More smiles. “ Hola Señor. Buenos tardes. ¿Es demasiado ruidoso [is it too noisy] ?” Laughter. “¡No, nos gusta [we love it]! Buenas tardes, amigos. ¿Como están ustedes?”—my response. Francisco and I end up shaking hands, sharing a beer, and vowing to always invite each other to our respective fiestas. ¡Vecinos! Neighbors!

No comments:

Post a Comment