Someone's at the door, Noah says, it's just a little kid. I was going to ignore her, but she was very small. Hola! I said. She had a little bucket covered with a cloth in her hand. What have you got, I asked. She couldn't have been more than 5 years old although children are very small here. She had been attracted by the sound of the boys splashing in the pool. She looked beyond me through the locked gate, fascinated.
-You're selling tortillas?
-One cordova (5 cents)
-One cordova each?
-Well, I need 10, do you have enough?
-Oh I've got tons of tortillas!
-Who made the tortillas?
- My abuelita.
-Where do you live?
- Just around the corner and down the street 3 blocks.
-What's your name?
- Ok, I'll have 10 tortillas.
Natalia uncovered her little red bucket and very carefully counted out 10 tortillas. Her nails were a little dirty and she wasn't wearing gloves. She passed them to me through the gate. I gave her 10 cords. We gobbled up the tortillas; they were still warm.
A little while later, I came back down and Natalie was still gazing through the door.
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What an exquisite scene. Do such moments, such patience exist in Seattle's "real" time pace of life?ReplyDelete
T, I attempted to connect Skype this a.m. but I'm having firewall issues. Will skype when able.
Carry on! It sounds as if you're having a marvelous time.
xo miss you, Kerry
That was a "touching" little episode. Is Natalie still there? When she comes back, buy a tortilla for me. Love, DadReplyDelete
I bought eight more last night as I climbed out of our big, white SUV and unlocked my gate. They were her last few and as before still warm.ReplyDelete
This story, like so many you tell, brings tears to my eyes. We miss you, but love hearing of your adventures. I am trying to get caught up...ReplyDelete