Ten.Seven Hundred & Eighty-One
Early morning bird chatter.
There is no where to be today and so I move slowly.
I can feel the perspiration coming. I carry the branch the rest of the way. I can feel a little bit of soreness in the knee but it feels good to be moving.
There are no figs but she says that we can pick some. $4 a pound. Yes. I want to do that.
We buy a baby olive tree for $20 and the man hands us a handful of yellow figs. I didn’t even know such a thing existed. A fig tree will be next. And a lemon. And a lime.
Monse’s margaritas. She gets married next weekend. We leave her a big tip.
I say something about empanadas and then stop myself; I don’t want to give it all away.
Sometimes you just need to shift everything around. Immediately. Because sometimes, when you aren’t entirely sure what you should do, you do what you can. Even if it means moving glassware from one cabinet to another so that you can reach it.
I show him a picture of the yellow figs. I wish I could share them with him. One of these days.