The Check In(gine) Light Part 4: 2:09PM

I was standing on the corner, waiting. Well, I was not standing—Alegria was standing, and I was sitting on her back.

It was Monday, and the Monday market stalls were just beginning to pack it up for the day. The time was 2:09 PM.

We were waiting for the school bus—one of those short, yellow, donated buses that a local school uses to transport kids after the school day is over. So, there we stood on the corner: the pizza guy still doing business to the left, the birria tent almost entirely put away on the right, the plant guy already gone, and the dry goods guy just moving his white Ford Econoline van to begin loading back up for the day.

There was a lot going on. But Alegria? Totally relaxed. Even enjoying taking it all in. The activity didn’t phase her; the movement of tarps and metal poles didn’t even make her flinch.

This same Alegria that, two days earlier, had not wanted to stand still at the fiesta was now relaxed, chill, and somehow enjoying the moment.

How could this be?

Well, for one thing, we had just done two rides that morning with two different groups, so she was able to get out, move, and get some of her energy out galloping down the beach and riding through the trails. That for sure made a difference. The other day when I had taken her to the fiesta, she hadn’t been out at all for a few days, and then I walked her a short mile and wanted her to stand still. So, the moving helped.

But I think it was more than just the moving—I think it was also the moment..

We were standing on that corner waiting for David to get dropped off by the school bus. I was so excited. I occasionally am the one to meet the boys, but always on foot, or on a bike, or in the truck—never on horseback. I was almost giddy with the anticipation of him seeing me waiting for him, standing there on Alegria.

I was scanning the hill, waiting to see the little yellow bus make the turn to come down. I finally saw it—there it was! I waved, making sure the driver knew I was there to pick up the boys. I may have waved a few too many times. I may have waved a bit too enthusiastically.

And in that moment I realized—oh my gosh, how did I turn into that crazy Tía who is so embarrassing?

Sure enough, the bus stopped and David got out. His expression was hard to read, but it looked like part embarrassment mixed with a bit of pride as well—eyes turned downward, but sneaking a smile and a glance upward. He shook his head, adjusted his backpack, and walked toward us.

I laughed, patted Alegria’s neck, and leaned down. Two days ago, we were both inquieta at the fiesta. But today, in the middle of market chaos and an embarrassing amount of waving, she stood completely unfazed by the marketplace closing down around us. I might have been the most embarrassing Tía on the block, but looking at Alegria, and at David, I realized we were exactly where we were supposed to be.