Last week, Clara and I walked downtown and took a long detour to the Plaza de Armas. Often I circle the plaza, sitting on a bench, just wishing I had someone to sit down and chat with. This time, lo and behold, as I neared the fountain I immediately spotted my friend, Gayla with kids in tow. Awesome. The kids fed the pigeons while Gayla and I talked and kept the strollers from blowing away--who knew these were the things that dreams were made of? But yes, it was a moment a year and a half in the dreaming.
Running into acquaintences and friends unexpectedly cements the fact that Saltillo really is a small town. For instance, take yesterday. I was on my way to brunch with my ladies' book group (wow--I think I just hit middle-age somewhere in that sentence). However, it was held at a woman's house out by the country club. Not having a car at the moment, I take the bus to the church we normally meet at. Taking a taxi all the way out to the country club seemed a little extravagant for the occasion. But, since I really wanted to go, taking a taxi from the church sounded like a more reasonable compromise.
The trouble was, once I got off the bus, there wasn't a taxi to be found.
Doesn't it always happen that when you don't want a taxi, they're always there, honking? But when you desperately want one, they've all misteriously disappeared. Such was the case yesterday. As I was waiting at the bus stop for a taxi to come by, my friend's husband drove by instead. He even stopped at the bus stop to pick up his niece, and being the great guy he is, offered me a ride as well. Swearing that he was in no rush, I took him up on the offer. After all, my options were limited and shoot--it was nice to talk to Herme. I haven't seen him for a few weeks.
Two signs in two weeks that Saltillo is becoming home for me. It really does feel good to put down some roots and stay somewhere longer than a year.