Juarez

Juarez
A short story by Diana Weeks

I was flat on my yoga mat doing my downward dog stretches when my phone rang.

My daughter, 30, mother of a boy and two girls was on the phone… hurriedly asking me to let my grand kids visit me next week… so she can take a bus to Juarez to take “crime story” pictures… for the daily paper she strings for… part time.

The Juarez drug war has exploded and murder happens daily.
Four heads had been cut off…I didn’t even have to pause to think. “No!”

“Mother, this could be my Pulitzer prize chance. It’s the photo op of photo ops. Come on it’s my big chance.

“That’s what I thought when I left you kids with a sitter and went to cover Hurricane Carla. What I thought was an afternoon job turned into two days in a flooded out bus with a woman who didn’t speak English… in labor.

It was a bad scary experience. And I didn’t get any good hurricane pictures or get paid for delivering the baby. We all almost drown before help came.

“But what an adventure”! She cried, her voice full of envy. Besides I can’t learn from your experiences. I’ll take my pepper spray”.

If you insist on going to Juarez, you’ll have to take the kids with you.

“I couldn’t do that, Juarez isn’t safe enough for my children.

Mother raised her eyebrows , “Or mine!”

The End
All Rights Reserved