Kent: Coffee Tables and Pool Tables

Not that long ago, I decided to restore a vintage camping trailer.

I started the project at my neighbor Woody’s place—just half a block away. It didn’t take long to realize that half a block is a long way when you’re constantly going back and forth for tools. So I brought the project home and my neighbors got to enjoy a summer-long trailer restoration in my driveway.

What I didn’t expect was what came with it. People started stopping by. Asking questions. Offering opinions. Sharing stories. That old trailer became a conversation piece—and those conversations turned into friendships.

Before long, I started inviting some of those neighbors over for Saturday morning coffee.

That became a regular thing.

Nevel, our back-fence neighbor.
Bill and Evelyn, who lived around the corner—Evelyn always bringing something homemade.
Reno and Loretta, who eventually became close enough to feel like family.

There were others too. Every Saturday morning.Simple. Consistent. Meaningful.

Then there were my pool nights. Reno again. And Tyler—my long-time friend. For years, Tyler and I spent evenings playing 9-ball, listening to music, talking about everything and nothing. Those nights were easy. Familiar. Something I counted on.

When we moved to Mexico, I knew I’d miss those people. What I didn’t realize was how much I’d miss the rhythm of it all. The consistency. The shared time. The feeling of “this is just what we do.”

Now we’ve been in Mexico just over a month. And something interesting is happening. I’ve found a new group of guys who meet weekly to play pool at a small family-run restaurant. Salvador runs the place. His brother Moises plays too. I’m still learning names—Gary, Louis, Ron, Jeff, and a few others—but the feeling is familiar. We play. We laugh. We compete a little, but nothing too serious. These weekly pool meet-ups are always a highlight of my week.

Jeff, from the pool gang, invited Judi and me to his home in San Juan Cosalá. We spent a relaxed afternoon with him and wife Laura—and now we’ve been included in their Friday night dinner group.

Our neighbor Barbara invited us over for snacks and drinks. What we thought would be a short visit turned into nearly four hours on her porch, talking with her and another neighbor, Raul, overlooking her beautiful garden.

It’s not the same. It can’t be.

We didn’t just leave behind a place—we left behind people. Good people. Important people.

But we’re learning something. You don’t replace friendships. You build new ones. And slowly, week by week, we are.

To our friends back in Louisiana—and wherever you may be reading this— We miss you. We’re grateful for you. And we’re carrying those friendships with us into this next chapter.

Hugs,

— Kent

READ JUDI’S APRIL 26, 2026 POST