No one needs to tell you that meeting middle-class Colombians in Minnesota is rare.
And yet, the waitress at the restaurant tonight was Colombian--with a Minnesotan accent like me. Her family is from the coast (Barranquilla) while mine is from the mountains (Popayan) but we were both in the same Minneapolis restaurant on the same Tuesday night. She didn't seem to find our corresponding origins remarkable or serendipitous. I looked at her black hair and then down at my tanned hands. Somewhere we shared a drop of blood, I was sure.