I go on a walk to explore more of my neighborhood.
I am greeted by the largest pig I have seen here, wallowing in a tire behind our house.
As if knowing this was show-off-the-large-animals day, a flock of huge turkey-like birds fill the street. As I walk by, they fluff up their feathers and try to follow me.
Two dogs try to attack me, but they are all bark.
I stumble on a cow’s jawbone in the street. Teeth included, it is as big as my foot. It would not be the last one I see here.
I discover the perfect view of the sunset over the majestic green hills.
As I walk, I find myself walking along the longest wall I have seen in this area. I turn with it, and discover it is a cemetery. A man sits outside the gate.
“Quiero charlar contigo.” (I want to chat with you.) I keep walking.
“Porque no quieres charlar conmigo?” (Why don’t you want to chat with me?) I keep walking. This question stabs my heart.
Why don’t I want to talk with him? Because his voice sounds slurred? Because I have trouble understanding his simple greeting? Because I always heard you shouldn’t talk to strangers, especially those that might be drunk sitting at cemeteries (ok, that last part wasn’t in the warning).
What should I do? Turn around, make up some excuse, and talk to him? Better yet, turn back, tell him the truth, and actually talk to him?
I keep walking, like a dog with its head down after breaking something.
I go to church tonight. The sermon is about treating all people like God’s loved children, even the ones (no joke) that are drunk or a little off. We all deserve to be condemned, but God chose to love us anyway, and we are called to love others the same way. No matter what.
I expect better things of myself next time.