Family

 

               Family

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I was hanging laundry on my rotary solar dryer when I could hear the phone ringing in the house. I don’t carry that thing around with me. When I went inside, I checked to see who’d phoned and called Leo back.

“Would you like to go for breakfast?” I’d had oatmeal/avocado cookies with coffee an hour earlier. “Of course, I’d love to go.” I figured I could fit in breakfast and call it lunch.

I didn’t even ask where. Leo headed out of town toward San Marcos. My mouth, which knows its own mind, prepared itself for lengue. I told my mouth not to get so uppity. Lengue is a specialty and they run out early. Sure enough, Leo pulled into the roadside eatery.

This place must have a name but I don’t know what. It’s built like a three-sided shed with the open kitchen at the back, tables, large and small, at the front. The floor is shale gravel.

Leo is a pleasure, always respectful, with a full bag of stories of family, friends and community. We both are weather worriers. We care about our land, our surroundings.

After rain nearly every day through June and July, we turned the corner into August, historically the month with most rain, and August became October. October, with morning cloud fogs, winds, tall grasses browning. No rain. It’s a worry. A big worry. Even the quality of light shouts, October!

This is a beautiful morning, too lovely to bury ourselves in worry. The sun is shining, quickly burning off the foggyf cloud cover. The breeze is light and pleasant. The mountains are still lush from July rainfall. What’s not to like?

Leo’s tamales, rich with pork and red salsa, a side of frijoles, looks good. My lengue, smothered in green tomatillo salsa, tops a cheese-filled gordita. Two versions of heaven on plates. We dig in. I know my face mirrors my satisfaction.

Halfway through my meal, I sat back a moment and started laughing.

“What?” Leo asked. “This is so perfect, Leo. Just look around us. Look at the mountains, the view, the fields across the highway crowded with corn taller than any Oklahoma elephants’ eyes, in full tassel, perfect food in front of us, surrounded by people having fun.

“Leo, the family sitting behind you, three generations, talking and eating and seeming to love life. You don’t fake that. The couple beside us over there, same thing. The older couple just came in, greeted and hugged the family behind you, squeezed the baby, and now, look, they are hugging the couple next to us. That’s pure community, good neighbors.

“This is a perfect morning for me. I know I’m not part of the families but I feel like I share with them anyway, even out on the perimeter. Thank you for bringing me, Leo.”

“What would you be doing if you were still at home?” Leo asked.

“Mopping my floor,” I replied. “Of course, I’d really rather be home mopping than here enjoying the great day, great company, great food.”

This is where I live. This is my life.

Sondra Ashton

Looking out my back door

Still dry in August

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