7

i walk up to the door. no one seems to notice me. the yard is 50 feet wide. at one end, i see Rosie, washing clothes. i begin to sneak in. Ya viene el Gringo says a voice i recognize. Carmen. Her voice has that unintentional quality of announcing her mood. she's happy, i can tell, if not a little tired. i straighten up and walk into the yard. Not untypical of Salvadoran properties, it has a large yard that dissects two small structures. both have covered porches. it's pleasant, once you adapt to it's beauty. It's simple way. And ive done that. i greet the three adults there. all warm people. each in their own distinct way. But im quickly distracted by the absence of the kids. and then i hear laughter. innocent laughter. two kids giggling. so i follow it and walk into a room and then freeze as if terrified by the two year old. i make a face like i've suddenly had a fart with a prize. i then walk across the room, and into a handstand, my feet meeting the wall in front of me so to stabilize me. more laughter. that kind that comes from wonderment. i regain my feet, and look up to see four faces. and a two year old ass. Christopher is bent-over, peeking at me between his legs. That's his hand stand. but that's as far as her can go. he stands. we laugh at each other. he then chases me out of the room. and around the yard. his family is laughing. other people show up to buy tortillas- which is why i have come- and they laugh too. Ten people laughing. Together. Is there anything better? Sometimes. But not tonight. I should have taken a picture. I will soon.

The pictures:

The top picture is my house. the bottom house is my neighbors across the street, taken from my place. they're redoing the streets. taken in january.