Monthly Archives: July 2023

Colonia San Antonio, San Miguel de Allende

Early morning Samaritans

She was standing in the middle of Callejon San Antonio around 6:30 this morning as I left the house, a dazed look on her face. And tears. On a closer look, she was crying.

“Are you all right?” I asked. A dumb thing to ask, I know. “Can I help you?”

“No, I’m not. I don’t know.”

She removed her hand from the top of her baseball cap. A large dark smear of blood was seeping through the hat and dripping down the side of her face. In her other hand, she held the leash to the dog she had been walking.

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San Miguel de Allende, Writings

Imagine that

(The author begs your indulgence if you already read this on Facebook. The blog seems a better home for it. Thank you for reading and commenting. — The editor)

A whole ocean spreads out before them

But for two little boys

A string of shallow pools

And some rocks

Are quite enough.

They hop from pool to pool

Splashing water with foot-stomping fierceness

They move rocks from pool to pool.

They wallow in the deepest one

Like beached sea lions.

All the while, the ocean calls

In vain.

It sends dolphins to entice them

But the boys will have none of that.

Yesterday, at a children’s park,

It was the rolling green lawn, the wind twisted climbing trees, and the incurious squirrels

That captivated their imaginations.

Not the swings, not the slides, not the plastic and rope confections of an adult’s imagination.

They are like cats with boxes and Christmas wrapping.

Give us nature’s raw materials,

they seem to say,

And we will build sailing ships and castles

And fantastic flying machines

In our fertile minds.

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