Huesito's Evening Stroll
Yesterday, Huesito looked up at me with those enormous painted eyes.
He didn't say a word.
He didn't have to.
He simply smiled that crooked little grin, tilted his head, and somehow I knew exactly what he was asking.
"Can we go for a walk?"
How could anyone say no to that face?
So, off we went.
Most visitors see Old Town with their eyes.
Huesito sees it with his heart.
He insists on stopping every few feet, convinced there's another story waiting just around the corner.
Sometimes he sits quietly on a fence, watching people wander past.
Sometimes he climbs into trees because, according to him, "everything looks more interesting from up there."
I have to admit...
He's right.
I have to admit….
He right.
Our first stop was the murals.
The giant green dragon stretched across the fence, winding its way toward the old buildings.
Huesito climbed right onto the fence and sat perfectly still.
For several minutes.
I asked him what he was doing.
He whispered...
"I'm waiting to see if the dragon blinks."
I'm still not convinced it didn't.
Then we wandered over to the mushroom mural.
Huesito climbed onto the wall and swung his little legs while staring at the owl.
I told him those mushrooms have been quietly guarding this corner for years.
He nodded very seriously.
"Good," he said.
"Every neighborhood needs someone watching over it."
The Frida mural stopped him completely.
He sat on the curb and simply admired it.
After a while he looked over at me.
"She looks brave."
I smiled.
"She was."
He nodded again.
"I hope people think murals are brave too."
He nodded again.
“I hope people think murals are brave too.”
Then came the octopus.
Now, that was trouble.
Huesito insisted the Mar de Flores Octopus was trying to wave hello.
He climbed up onto the windowsill just to get a better look.
For a moment, I thought he might disappear into the painting.
Knowing Huesito...
I'm still not entirely sure he didn't.
By then the evening fog had begun rolling into Old Town.
The lights were coming on.
People hurried past without noticing the tiny skeleton sitting in trees, balancing on fences, and smiling at murals.
Maybe that's the magic.
Old Town only reveals a few of its secrets to people who slow down enough to notice.
When we finally headed home, Huesito climbed onto my shoulder.
He was unusually quiet.
Just before we reached the gate he leaned close and whispered,
"Tomorrow... can we go see Roger?"
