And then. . .

Sunny spring Sundays always brought the people out of their red brick apartments. The rows of doorways popped open and screen doors kept the flies out. Opened windows let in the fresh breeze and sunlight. The neighborhood knew to take advantage of it because there were only a few days like this in El Paso’s spring before the winds came.             El Freddy walked down 3 rd Street toward Stanton.  He’d just left from La Bowie where he ate a warm empanada. He’d passed on the cafecito even though he thought it always made the piña of the empanda taste sweeter, but it was too warm for café.             As he walked, he passed some vatos who were riding around the barrio on their tricked out chrome blinding bikes. El Freddy nodded as he passed them and he heard their laughter as one of them hit the curb and almost wiped out. El Freddy didn’t laugh but just smiled. ...

I should be grading, but I don't want to. Outside, the sky is varying shades of grey. The clouds are a tightly, knit sewn quilt blanketing the city. This is odd for "The Sun City", but unlike most I enjoy chilly weather, rain, and what the clouds bring. I should be grading, but I keep ignoring the digital stack of papers. The semester is at week 10 and the students who are going to "get" it have already proven themselves. The "not taking this seriously" have disappeared like the mice who inhabited my office for the first month of the semester. I'm still not sure of the "I'm gonna buckle downs". I stay hopeful, but not too much, so it won't hurt as much when they too disappear. I should be grading, but the weekend is calling. Saturday is Halloween. I always love Halloween, but this year I have less zest in my pep. Yesterday, I suggested to my husband we dress up as Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love. We just need blond wigs. He said...

It was hot. Even with my black Ray Bans on I squinted against the sunlight as I walked to my red Civic. "If I gave you gas money, would you give me ride home?" a voice asked to my right. I turned just noticing a young girl with brown skin and beads of sweat clinging to her top lip. "Where do you live?" I asked. Quick. "Over by the Albertson's on Abbot," she paused. Her mouth stayed open ready to inhale my no. I looked at her, she was only holding a gray binder, and nodded. I pulled my head to left and said, "Come on." She didn't hesitate and her steps fell into rhythm with mine as we walked to the car. "It's so hot, you know? I'm from Vegas, but in the last few weeks I've gone from white to brown." I clicked the car doors open. "Don't mind the mess," I said grabbing wrinkled papers off the passenger seat. "Oh, no worries," she said as she sat down, "I'm from Ve...