Looking out my Backdoor: My face is red

Yesterday the four of us women who are here on the rancho went to Oconahua to share pot luck with Ana and Michelle, and to meet Michelle’s sister Janice.

My neighbor Janet and I have been to their home several times. This was the first for Kathy and Crinny, so it was really special for them to see the lovely and incredible stone house that Ana and Michelle built over 11 years.

We each introduced ourselves to Janice, me being last in line. “Hi, Janice. I’m so delighted to meet you. I’m Sondra.”

“Oh, I remember you,” Janice said. Italics are mine but I swear I heard them in her voice. “Years ago your neighbor brought us to see your house and you were not happy with us. We were there to walk through and look at the houses that were empty at the time. She wanted to show us your house and yard.”

Oh, yes, memory returned with a whump in my stomach. I’d thought of that day from time to time, with chagrin, wishing I’d been more amiable.

That morning, my neighbor had shown up trailed by three or four women, all strangers to me. It was a couple or three years later until I really met two of those strangers, now my good friends from Oconahua.

On the day of my infamy, I’d not lived here in Etzatlan long. For several months I lived without kitchen cabinets or sink, hauled my dishes outside to the patio sink to wash up, lived out of bins and stacks on the floor.

Nothing about my house was finished nor was it a show place. And the day in reference, I was hot and sweaty, cleaning cloth in hand.

She meant well, my neighbor. But she also had come tromping through my yard to get to the two houses beyond me. And I took offense. Churlish of me. Rude and presumptuous of her.

And I said, “No.” I also asked her to take her entourage around and not through my yard. I didn’t say this meanly, but I said it clearly. And I do remember it.

I apologized profusely to Janice who laughed and said, “Think nothing of it. It was understandable.”

Interestingly, I liked Janice immediately. I let my memories and embarrassment drop to the floor and carried on with visiting. I hope she found me to be more approachable than last time but I can’t control what other people think.

Today, the “girls from Oconahua,” and I always think that phrase to the tune of “The girl from Ipanema” are stopping by for the quick tour of all our homes now. Janice had seen most of our houses when empty.

I’ll invite them in. Me and my house are ready. They’ll see me same as you would if you dropped by without calling. The ironing board is out and a sewing project is on the table.

My house is small. But it is pleasant and inviting. People tend to walk in and automatically make themselves at home. I like that.

I’ll be more gracious than that other time. Ana and Michelle have been here often. They know me well. Janice will see the everyday me in my everyday setting.

——

Sondra Ashton grew up in Harlem but spent most of her adult life out of state. She returned to see the Hi-Line with a perspective of delight. After several years back in Harlem, Ashton is seeking new experiences in Etzatlan, Mexico. Once a Montanan, always. Read Ashton’s essays and other work at http://montanatumbleweed.blogspot.com/. Email [email protected].