'Twas Sunday evening, about 6:00 p.m. Alan had just finished putting up our fence the week before. Now he was at a meeting at the church and the boys and I were alone at home. Alan had decided it was a hassle to always lock the front gate and so had gone to his meeting, leaving the gate unlocked behind him
I was standing at the stove, making popcorn, when a very drunken man staggered into our yard. (There's a "cervezaria" 1/2 block from us on the corner). He headed toward the fence separating our yard from that of our landlord's. I thought it was our landlord but, as I had not yet met him, was not sure until Alan returned and verified the fact. I watched in some amusement as this man tried firstly to find an opening in the fence and then to scale it. My amusement, however, began to change to concern as he backed off from the fence and yelled, "Este es mi terreno! Por que hay una pared?" Then he turned and headed for our front door. Night was falling. It was 6:20. I quickly turned off the kitchen lights, grabbed the boys and the popcorn and headed for my bedroom. I closed the curtains in both bedrooms and then we sat on the bed in the dark for 25 minutes while this mad man pounded on doors and windows screaming, "Alan, where are you? Alan let me in."
He even tried to fit his own house keys in our door. How thankful I was that Alan had changed all the locks on our doors! He took occasional breaks to run at the fence, complain to the neighborhood dogs and search out other ways to return home, but he kept coming back. After sitting in the dark for those 25 minutes with me assuring the boys he couldn't get in, trying to keep all silent, and hugging David as he whimpered, "When will Dad be home?", I finally gave in and we said a prayer. Our terrorist didn't depart but he calmed considerably, slumping against the wall and changing his tone to a defeated, pleading one. There he remained for another 15 minutes while we continued to hide on the bed in the dark, popcorn long forgotten.
7:00 finally came and a key turned in the lock. I rushed to the door, ready to collapse in my husbands' arms and sob out the stress. Who was it? The Martinez family from Huejotzingo. Ahhhh.stress relief check.Alan and Brother Martinez took Rogelio home. I'm glad company came home with Alan. I think it was better for our sons that their mother didn't sob about the event in front of them. It would have made the experience just that much more terrible for them.
It's a terrifying feeling to have in one's charge three little bodies, while just feet away windows are being banged, doors shaken, locks tried. It's comforting to know God is there and prayers are answered. I hope that next time I bow my head sooner!
send us an e-mail
last
updated May 31, 1999