Rudys

I don't think she told us her name but she had bright hopeful eyes even at the age of 43. They fluttered here and there with excitement as our eyes landed on the caramel creAm with brittle skin, over to the pasteries, the quiche, their freshly made spread. 

 The thick French accent was included in every word and every now and then she would stop, touching her temples or cheeks, apologizing for the brokenness of her English. We waved her concern away and kept pressing in for answers, enthralled with their bravery, their voyage away from home to this place. 

It was evident how excited she was to share her background, how the taxes were so high there, the government so corrupt, the tragedy that happened recently, it all brought them here. She mentioned her son in law with her hand and at the same time and motioned to her daughter, who fluttered around preparing plates, washing her hands, her husband letting the caramel sauce ooze out near the pastery on the clear plate. Her and her husband both, shoulder to shoulder were giddy with excitement to take our order, his blue eyes exposed just as my joy in the blue of his eyes. I wondered what people saw in me while I spoke,  I hoped it was just as full of light.

"This place," she said, lifting her eyes as if to show how overcome she was by it, "it's my dream."