We talked last night and decided to make our clocks, watches, and cell phone timers as irrelevant as possible today. So I woke up sometime in the night, walked the beach for awhile, then went back to bed. I got up at sometime before light this morning because I wanted to watch the sun rise. And did.
Now it is sometime in the morning (I think). Two of us are walking, one is reading, and the other one is here, bearing witness. Maybe we’re hungry, but when we know for sure we’ll go across the bridge to Port Isabel and eat breakfast at a place- Isabella’s- that reminds us how close we are to Mexico.
We’re staying at a borrowed condo just up the shore from the public access beach. I walked there yesterday afternoon, picking up the occasional shell for no other reason than the fact that I could. I looked up and a young Hispanic man, covered in gangster tattoos, was approaching. Immediately, I wondered about "territory..his?" and felt the gringo’s knot of concern begin to form in my belly.
"Whatcha lookin’ for, man?" he asked as he immediately bent down and picked up two little shells with holes in them. "Here, take these; they make nice necklaces for your little girls."
"Thanks," I said, "but how did you know I had any daughters? I do, but they’re 31 and 28! They’re not little anymore!"
"You look like guy who has daughters. I do, too. Mine are still little."
I saw one thing. He saw another. I was wrong. He was right. And I’m vaguely hungry now, so maybe it’s time (maybe), to drive in a little closer to Mexico.