Day 124- See the sunset

#41, Watch a sunset

I am in Mexico for a week visiting family and I am finding that life here in San Carlos, Mexico, is a relaxed shuffle from party to party. We start our morning under one palapa, and then it is a series of palapas and cervezas and laughter until we settle back into our corners to prepare for the next day.

Tonight, before sunset, we piled into cars and drove to my aunt’s sister’s house. We shouted from the cobbled street below, “Marie! Can we come up?” She popped her head out and invited us in, pausing a moment to throw on clothes. We spilled into her patio, laughing and moving chairs, taking turns petting her gangly puppy, and pulling out beers from the 12-pack of Victoria we had brought with us.

When the sun began to send pink rays of light across the sky, we headed up a narrow, tiled stairway to yet another patio. We could see tiled roofs for miles and the music from nearby nightclubs floated up to us on the occasional breeze.

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Marie told us about the two airplane crashes she has survived, while we listened with gaping mouths. We teased each other and reminisced and made plans to go fishing. I smiled at my cousin Jeff, with his dark glasses and the black, curly hair that now reaches his shoulders, and I thought how much he looks like a teenager- grinning and cool and looking at his wife like he can’t wait to kiss her. His wife, Patricia, was glowing too and her tanned skin in her aqua t-shirt, made her look like a girl.

Life is good here.

After a few more drinks, the ladies got bawdy. Marie and Patricia were hilarious, and my mom threw her head back in laughter. Her good-natured husband, Rich, took more than a few gringo jokes in stride.

IMG_8825We remembered my grandmother, who lived here in San Carlos for years. We shared stories about her love of parties. Marie told us that she had once asked my grandmother if the noise from the nightclubs bothered her. She had been in her nineties then and told Marie, “Not really. If I was younger I’d be over there.”

I replied, “Yes. Like five years younger.”

And we all laughed because it was true. In fact, I have a fond memory of my grandma dancing to Sir Mix-A-Lot’s “Baby Got Back”, at the wedding of a cousin, when she was 89.

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We all smiled at the memory and raised our drinks in a toast, “To Flora!”

We began to lose the sun, but we clinked our bottles and grew quiet for a moment.

We have all lost- life is just like that- but tonight we were happy and safe and alive, and we were here to watch the passing of another glorious day sink into night.

We headed downstairs as the stars began to rise, trying not to trip over the puppy as we navigated our way down the stairs in the dark. Hugs were exchanged. Bottles were taken to the trash.

We hopped into cars and headed back to the Caracol, warm with pleasure from a night of good beer, goodwill, and a spectacular setting sun.

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242 days to go!

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