Looking out my Backdoor: My 'almost-Mexican' fiesta

This was not my idea, to have a party. It was sloppily put together. Any party, even pot luck, takes a lot of work. I didn't really want to do it. I was tired and in pain from the long bus ride. Bah humbug.

I rode the bus, one more trip to Mazatlan. In the four-year process, all that was left for me to do was pick up the card moving me from temporary to permanent status as a resident. This is not citizenship. I'm not dual. Too old to think about that.

In October, the senorita behind the desk at the Oficina de Migracion had said to me, "Ten days."

I lifted my brow. She made the univers...