Where you go, I will go; where you live, I will live. Your people will be my people for your God is my God.

Monday, August 15, 2011


The day is warm.   The afternoon still young.  I walk down the street, heading to buy our daily rations of tortilla.

“Mi amigo?!”   I look from side to side and finally down to see the face of a boy, no more than four years old.  His was the voice that had interrupted my thoughts.

“Mi amigo?!!?”  He asks, no demands again.  He obviously wanted some piece of information and thought I had it.   Had he lost something?  And did I even know this kid?  I had no idea. 

“No se, tu amigo…?”  I begin.  The light bulb comes on.   Of course I know this kid!  I saw him on the street corner near my house a few nights ago.  Rafa had talked to him.

“Oh! Mi esposo, Rafa?!”  I ask.   He gives me a look of an obvious “DUH, lady!”  I explain that Rafa is at work.  The child looks at me, shrugs his shoulders and scampers away.  

I hurry along my way as well, smiling and thanking the Lord that the man children know as amigo, I know as husband. 

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