this morning's unevents

i woke from a series of dreams this morning involving canoes and straw shoes and my father. when alex came to sit at the bed, nibbling toast with tahini and holding a travel mug of tea I realized that the plan was to drop him at school. It is my day off and I had to head south to take care of some things. I slipped some clogs over my sleeping socks, a pair of dusty corduroys and threw a hat on over my bed head. I dropped him off and went down to Nogales. A stop at the Safeway for a star bucks cappuccino-- the closest thing to good quality coffee down here, and I headed downtown, parking at the closed library. I walked up the sidewalks in the sunny slightly chilled morning, greeting passers by with buenas dia and little nods, feeling out of place as usual. Street shops began opening like buds in bloom, pulling up their garage doors and revealing deep cavernous interiors stocked with bright plastic goods. The freight train from Mexico passed through the city park where people sat comfortably using their phones or waiting for something. I walked around a hardware store looking for sewing machine oil and listening Mexican talk radio. I walked all the way to where the USA stops at a fence, border patrol SUVs driving idly, talking on their radios. At some parts of the fence I could see the other side, not even a block away, in Mexico. More of the same kinds of shops, and I thought about crossing but knew I'd get a hard time being left alone there, even in my humble outfit. I walked back to the car, perused a Salvation army, buying some glassware, returning two dvds to the library and pulling onto Grande Street. A trip to Wallmart was necessary and then Home Depot for mismatched paint. As I stood in the isle for printer papers trying to locate vellum I overheard a conversation between an employee and his friend. He had just gotten a payday loan and his friend was concerned about the interest. A drive back to Rio Rico, a lunch of last night's salmon and orzo with a chilled glass of chardonnay-- and then another. tomorrow I substitute teach for a special ed. class. Days like these: in the desert, of limited means, uneventful yet memorable.
My mother is under the knife today.