A Boy and a Corn Vendor Bring New Perspective

A Boy and a Corn Vendor Bring New Perspective
  I trekked down the cobblestone street, the plastic soles of my flip-flops conforming to the shape of each rock, while a hot wind bathed my sweaty skin in layers of grit. A dog dozed on the sidewalk, the slow rhythm of his breath the only other sound competing with the hot silence of the dusty afternoon. Suddenly, a man pushing a rattling wheelbarrow appeared from around the corner and bumped his heavy load into the middle of the empty intersection and yelled. A kid ducked out from the door of a nearby pink house and raced over. He looked to be about 4 years old. “What is going on?” Lauren asked me. I smiled, remembering the first time my parents took me to Mexico when I was just about the age of that little boy. “He’s a corn-on-a-stick guy,” Gary said. I could feel the sun burning my white arms and the back of my legs. Brilliant orange nasturtiums dripped off a vine against the boy’s stucco house, and through an open window, I caught a glimpse of a shrine to Our Lady of Guadalupe, Mexico’s patron saint. I was happy my husband had booked this last-minute trip. The man with the wheelbarrow wrapped his hand in a cotton towel and removed the lid of a huge metal pot. Steam lifted into the humid air like a scene from a Halloween funhouse, and he dipped his tongs in and pulled out an ear of corn. Then, quick as a magician, he peeled back its saturated husks. Green leaves formed a
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