The Crossing

When Dwayne retired from Motorola we sold the house and spent a year driving the Caravan across the USA looking for the place we loved best. When we saw the ranch in Sasabe on the Sonoran border, we knew we’d found it. That was twenty years ago.

It was a year-round thing. They’d come through at night, parties of five or ten or twenty. Some men, but a lot of women and children. I got in the habit of setting out gallon jugs of water, packages of corn tortillas and cans of beans. Dwayne was furious when he found out.

 

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