Nuestros Vecinos Mexicanos

This morning, while waiting for the coffee to brew, I checked my phone and noticed two of our Mexican neighbors had each called last night, must have been around midnight. Multiple calls each. No message.

Puzzling. My first thought was that a dog had attacked the garbage bag I’d hung—perhaps too low—for morning pickup. But I noticed no signs of a spill.

I did notice, though, that our front door—which is always closed overnight several feet behind the locked gate—the front door was open, and probably had been open most of the night.

In the neighborly fashion of Mexicans, Juan Jose and Jesus must have noticed the open door, thought that it might foretell something amiss, and called to check or warn us. I sent them each a message of thanks and explanation that the door wasn’t latching properly lately. Have to get that fixed.