When Dick suggested a new Mexican restaurant, I thought it was one we had been to, several years ago. When we googled the address and got closer, I suspected it might be in a place that was familiar to me. Familiar from a very long time ago. The tiny little cluster of shops was down the hill from my friend Cathy’s house. In senior year, we used to set on the shop curb and wait for our bus. When it came by, we continued to sit and laugh and laugh, saying ‘Oh well, there goes the bus!’ We were close to graduation, admitted to our colleges of choice, and knew we were able to get away with murder. The nuns never asked why we missed the bus so often. They knew!

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