My Two Border Towns

Every other Saturday, my dad wakes me up early. “Come on, m’ijo,” he says. “Vamos al Otro Lado.”
The Other Side is not so far away. Just down the road, right past my school.
Mamá gives us a kiss and a list. It’s different every time we go.
5:00
I grab my special bag, hold it tight as I follow Dad, thinking of what’s inside for my friends. As we drive through town, we pass my favorite spots. Neighbors line up early for Daisy’s yummy pastries. At a stoplight, Dad calls to the newspaper man, holding out a dollar, “Aquí tiene, Don Memo. Thanks!” Before I know it, we reach the broad river, a watery serpent that glints with the dawn.
Dad reminds me: Coahuiltecans once lived here, before all this was Mexico-both riverbanks.
Now we’re two countries.
We pay to cross.
“Morning,” says the U.S. customs guard, taking Dad’s cash with a sleepy frown.