Huarache Sandals and the Case of the Missing Husband

I nearly lost my husband a few nights ago. At least, I thought I had. At 3pm last Tuesday afternoon, Rivers left on his bike in search of a cobbler who would be willing/able to cut a piece of car tire (found in the river behind our house which he had hacked in two with a machete) into a sandal sole. A strange aspiration, however in context of Rivers' years-long obsession with the Northern-Mexico Tarahumara tribe who live the same way they did centuries ago and wear simple sandals to run over a hundred miles a day, it seemed a credible endeavor. Assuring me that he would be back "soon" so that he could run at 4:30 before his church activity at 6:30, he left on his way to the little town ten minutes from our house.

When it hit 4:00 with no sign of Rivers, I barely bat an eye. Having worried extensively and needlessly over his longer-than-anticipated running adventures many times before, I thought nothing of his absence. When it turned 5:00, I felt badly that Rivers wouldn't have time to run before going to church. When 6:00 rolled around around, I started to worry that he would be late to the activity. At 6:30 I was worried. Where was my husband? Why hadn't he called? What song would I play at his funeral? What if no one finds his body and I never have closure? Yup, it was time to panic.

Although it was past HarpFace's bedtime, I frantically called a taxi and headed to the church. Surely he had gone straight there after realizing he was running (way) late. When I entered the church building to find a bunch of teenaged boys waiting for Rivers' arrival, I started to cry. Rivers had obviously been hit by a truck as it tried to pass a car on the right, crashing into my hubby straight-on. Poor Harper was going to grow up without a daddy. In between sobs, I asked the cabbie if there had been any accidents in the area that evening. When he said that he wasn't sure, I told the cabbie to just drive me home.

I put Harper right to sleep, then called my mum, still sobbing. She calmy told me to ask a neighbor to take me down to the police station. In broken Spanish I desperately explained to Blanca and Manuel that I had lost my husband and didn't know what to do. They kindly offered to take me to the Red Cross and start a search for him. So it was really happening. All of my nightmares had come true. Good thing I had, by this time, decided that the perfect song to play at the funeral was "Cotton-Eye Joe". That was one less decision I would have to make.

Around 7:00, just as I was on my way to wake up poor lil' Harper to go on a quest to find her dad, the phone rang. It was Rivers. I broke down, demanding to know where he was. It turns out finding a cobbler with the means to cut tire was harder than he thought, and having recently misplaced his watch, he had lost track of time. Great story, Hansel. But then he came home and explained how the cobbler had been a blind old man who was doing his best to cut through the metal-laden tire by feel with a grinding disk and kept insinuating that it would only take "5 more minutes" (turned out to be 30 x 5 minues) while stopping ever other minute to raise his hands and pronouce blessings on our family. Ultimately, I've come to learn that when Rivers is late, it is always because he is either helping someone, has made a new friend, or is too kind and polite to leave a given situation. I must keep this in mind next time I pre-emptively debate whether I should finish the school year or jump on the next plane home to mourn my late husband.

Rivers came home appologetic, safe and sound and of course, with an awesome pair of Huarache sandals. He even made a pair for Harper. Although I was mad for the rest of that night, I'm really glad to have my Rivs back. It gives me the opportunity to discuss with him the "Cotton-Eye Joe" song selection, although I think it's a no-brainer.