verduras

A taxi just pulled up really fast and stopped in front of the restaurant. From the passenger seat, a short, elderly man leapt out and ran to the trunk, hoping not to stop traffic too long, I suppose. The taxi driver flew around from his side of the car and opened the trunk. The old man then lifted a big bag of cauliflower out and quickly set it on the sidewalk. In a few seconds the two men took several smaller, black bags from the trunk and set them on the sidewalk beside the cauliflower, all filled with fruits and vegetables, for our store. Small moments have so much meaning for me here. Across the street two women are leaning against a wall and chatting, now they've parted ways. Next to where they were standing, a small, grey-haired woman with glasses puts a key in the padlock to her store. She looks like the ideal, typical abuela and I know that now she will start to hang a selection of Guatemalan clothes between the doors. Calle Real de Guadalupe is like its own community of shop keepers, bartenders, waiters, receptionists, sidewalk sweepers, wide-eyed tourists, bleary-eyed youth. We all see each other on a daily basis, a living portrait of our lives, and we see each other head for our homes late at night. The electronics store on the corner usually is blasting some type of dance music, whether it be cumbia or American music from the '80s, making the mercadito of a few small vegetable stands feel almost as lively as the main market. I am lucky to live just around the corner. Around another corner live dear friends, around another memories, around another a place I think about trying, around and around and around.