I didn’t do anything with Pepe’s phone number for about two weeks. Which is a long time for me
Then one day I texted him and he invited me over to his place to look at some land.
His 11-year old son greeted me at the dirt road, moved the barbed wire fence to the side and we walked past the bottom area of their land, the place where the burning apparently takes place, then climbed a green winding hill at the top of which Pepe was waiting for us in his hammock, seven goats gathered nearby.
For one of many, many times I was tenderly grateful to Lila for pretty much never having gotten excited about a cat, a chicken, a dog, a horse, or a goat. This quality has made our life a whole lot easier this past year.
Pepe got up and opened his arms to the 360 degrees view of his land. “You can have any piece you want,” he said.
“Well”, I thought. It all looked quite beautiful, especially the piece with the huge parota tree. However, my gut was trying to get my attention in a way that I have learned could be expensive to ignore. I didn’t.
Over the following weeks, Pepe and I spoke a few times more. When my family came to visit me, I brought them over there. To the country – and to Pepe’s.
My gut was still talking.
I was still listening.