its the simple things

I have been putting off writing this blog for a while and I'm not really sure why. Maybe it is because of laziness, or maybe it is because I wasn't sure how to describe the relationship that I have with my 70-something year old neighbor. I guess Akilina and her husband Aurelio would be the closest thing I have to Paraguayan grandparents. They live about 2 minutes away from my house and I visit them often because she owns an almacen (small store). I often walk over there to buy a few things and will sit down to drink terere first and chat.

She has an old balance which she uses to measure the weight by kilo of the food she sells like flour, tomatoes, noodles, sugar, or onions. She first puts the weights on one side of the balance and then slowly pours out the flour or sugar with her measuring cup or changes around the tomatoes until both sides are even. Then without fail she will look up at me, widen her eyes, smile with her toothless gums, and sometimes add a little "hee hee," as if to say, "good for me." When I buy bananas from her, Aurelio always tells her to pick out the best ones for me and even though I am already getting them for a ridiculously low price, she usually gives me a couple extra for free.

One day I showed up and all of her mercaderia had recently been delivered and was sitting on her table. "You ordered milk this time," I said while rifling through the food items. "Yes. And you are going to help me put it all away," she told me. So I carried in all of the heavy items and then helped her figure out how much she needed to sell milk in order to make a profit.

Another day I was sitting with her drinking terere on her patio and watching her husband and son put long dried grass called kapi'i on the roof of thier patio extension. "Do you use that in your country for roofs?" she asked me, pointing at the kapi'i.

I considered saying while I don't remember it specifically, I was sure we had long grass in my country, though I don't have a feild full of it in my backyard. But according to California fire codes, said grass would not be used for roofing. I decided that would be too complicated an answer and said, "No we don't have that. It is actually not legal becasue it catches fire easily."

"But you don't have it?" she asked.

I hesitated. "No we don't."

"Oh, well that would be difficult then," she concluded. And that was that.

I think that is what I appreciate about her. The simpleness. She wasn't looking for an elaborate explanation of what my house is like in the United States, which is what some people ask me. She was just trying to imagine my house in another country with what she already knew. Instead of thinking that I am better than her because I am a rubia or thinking I am rich becasue I am from the United States, she just sees me as another person and that is what allows us to be friends.

I kept procrastinating writing this blog because I kept on trying to think of an elaborate way to describe our friendship, or a better way to tell the details. But the thing is, my point wasn't to tell you that she is in my women's commission or that we made peach jam together, or that I was invited to Aurelio's 80th birthday party or that they give me free bananas. I just wanted to tell you that though she is over 50 years older than me, she is my friend. It is simple, but that's why I like it.