"Teacher!" my tiny and adorable student Andrea shouted in her 9-year-old voice.
"Si?" I asked in-between desperate mouth-fulls of cold water.
"Hace mucho calor--41 grados hoy!"
Not knowing exactly what this translates into in Fahrenheit, but knowing--and feeling--that it was well-above 90 degrees, I nodded my acknowledgement to Andrea as I chugged more water and tried to control my pores.
When I got home I asked Nick what 41 degrees Celcius is, and he did the conversion: 105 degrees Fahrenheit. Later that night I woke up glowing with sweat, my throat parchment. I distincly had the thought, I am not going to make it. (I'm not sure what I thought the alternative was to making it...) I tried to suppress my heat-induced panic by running a towel under cold water and falling asleep with it plastered across my forehead.
And when I woke up, glorious, glorious rain greeted me. Nick went to his soccer game--already the highlight of his week--walking on clouds, and I practically danced my way to a coffee date with a friend in Las Canitas. I am afraid I might be jinxing a wonderful thing, but I THINK (fingers, toes, arms, legs, torso crossed) that fall is here!!! And boy is it beautiful.
And that is not the only miracle that befell us last Friday, for something as miraculous as autumn winds also came along: OUR GAS! After 23 days without gas, without cooking and without hot/warm/tepid water, the gasista finished his inspection and the pipes were turned on. Miracle of all miracles!! Nick and Sarah got their groove back: COOKING! To celebrate we made an entire chicken, baked until crispy and drenched in an orange-ginger-garlic-basil soy sauce. I don't know if we uttered one word during dinner, so taken were we with the taste of something warm, flavorful, and homemade...
Life is good. We love the gasista.