Are We Married?

Sure, it’s cheesy, but I’ve been known to say that my soul lives in New Mexico. My marriage, on the other hand, does not.

Before I talk about these two states, however, I want to talk again about Border Patrol. As we made our way on I-10 and then I-8, we were driving alongside the border occasionally. You could see the fence that separated the United States from Mexico. A long, man-made blight on the otherwise beautiful desert. White SUVs with the green Border Patrol stripe passed us frequently, sometimes on dirt roads along the interstate. While these facts may be less than positive from our perspective, what was shocking and upsetting was the number of times that we had to go through Border Patrol checkpoints. Let me remind you: we did not go to Mexico. These were checkpoints set up along roads that only traveled through United States land–both I-10 and I-8 are east-west roads that do not enter Mexico at any point. But because of the proximity to the border, we were all suspect.

Likely some of us more than others. While one of the patrolmen did remind Ami that she was in California when she identified that as her destination, and a few of them gave us less-than-savory looks, we were not stopped for more than a minute at each point. We were not searched. We were not harrassed. What would have happened if we were not so fair-skinned? I will leave you to draw your own conclusion there, since I’m just speculating, but I know I have my theories.

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