Besides deliveries, the doorbell has rung only once or twice since March 15. Last night, it rang.
I answered the door. The neighbor girl beamed up at me, her fuzzy pigtails sticking straight out from her head: a North African Pippi Longstocking. Adorable.
“This is for you. My mom made it.” She thrust out a plate with two orange wedges of dessert, probably on the menu for the night’s breaking of the fast.
She continued to beam while we chatted. Last week, when I took chocolate cupcakes to her door, she gasped and did a little dance. Now she was delighting my day as I had delighted hers. That’s why she was beaming.
Indeed, it was delightful to chat with her before she marched across the hall with a cheerful “¡Adiós!”
This morning, the world feels different than it has in months. There was abundant life. And cars everywhere. I was hesitant to make them stop for me at the crosswalks… or, if I’m honest, maybe partially afraid that they were out of practice stopping for pedestrians.
Many businesses are back, not to full capacity, but back. I grinned as I passed a café. Andalusians are loud when they’re in a pile. Now imagine them sitting several meters apart in the cafés.
But the throbbing of their voices is the heartbeat of a town that’s beginning to live again.