The size of my town is such that I rarely -- if ever -- go anywhere without running into people I know. Generally this is a good thing. For example, when I run into you, I am pleased. But every once in a while I don't want to see anyone I know. That's just the way it is.
Lately I've had a happy streak of running into people. There was last week at the Patio Inn, for example. And, ending a 20-year absence, I saw one of my favorite English teachers when I went to get my hair cut.
But the best was today. I was on my way to pay my property taxes when, outside the courthouse, I heard someone calling my name. It was the dad of the boys I used to tutor. I haven't seen their family since I moved back to town. "We lost you!" he said. His English is now unbelievably good. I marveled at all he told me. I gave him my card and my updated information. I also gave him a hug -- a kind of social faux pas that traditional Mexican culture frowns upon because he is married (and not to me).
Tonight, in keeping with propriety, his wife called and said in Spanish, "When are you coming to my house?"
The answer is 3 p.m. Saturday. I can't wait.
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