After Breakfast

We have eaten breakfast at the hotel every morning. It's nice but I miss breakfast in town and perhaps tomorrow we shall eat there with Jessie and Vergil. They were so tired when they got in last night. They had driven from Asheville to Atlanta, flown to Cancun, gotten the bus to Playa, the ferry to Cozumel. We were waiting for them at the ferry dock and oh, how good it was to see them! The town was busy, busy, the last cruise ships were still in town, people everywhere but by the time we'd finished our supper, all of those people were gone and it was quiet.
We walked to their hotel which is right down on the main streets of the town and it is very comfortable, very charming. We left them and walked back to where our scooter was and drove home. They are coming here today to relax and enjoy the beach and to snorkel.

I am not keeping track of days. I am not even sure what day of the week we are leaving. I don't have to. Not yet. I will not.

The family with the cookies is still here. So are the cookies which are brought out for meals and left on the table for all. There are two little boys and when one of them ran to his daddy this morning and raised his arms to be picked up and then patted his papa's cheeks, I thought I would die for missing Owen. I didn't know I would miss him like this. Isn't that silly? Not that I miss him. That I didn't realize how it would be. The other little boy is wearing his Superman costume today. Just like Owen's. Ay-yi-yi. That boy of my blood.

Very, very thin woman was at table before us and when we caught eyes, she gave me a brilliant smile. How I wish I could talk to her. But I do not think her English is very good and I know my everything-else is terrible. What is she doing here so alone? What are her thoughts? She reads some, but mostly stares into space or sleeps on the beach bed. Is she waiting? Healing? Perhaps she has been ill. She is certainly thin enough to be have been ill. Is she hiding? She keeps entirely to herself, it would seem. Is she in her room when she is not down at the beach? Mr. Moon thought that perhaps she is a dancer but if that is so, she has not danced in awhile. I do not see a lot of muscle there. Mostly just bone. And smile. Sometimes.

Well, I do not know.

The yoga class seems to last forever. I feel guilty that I am not down there, stretching and breathing and being aware. Why do I have to tote my guilt with me everywhere I go? My anxieties are staying quiet, for the most part and what do I have to feel anxious about? Not much, believe me.

I think I will take a walk. Mr. Moon is trying to find the best wireless connection for his poker game and will wait for Jessie and Vergil although I told them not to rush this morning. To come when they felt like it. This is Mexico. Vergil wants to rent a scooter now, I think. These men and their need for a scooter! I want to go across the island to the other side but the idea of riding the entire way on the back of a moto makes me want to die a little. My bones are not as young as they once were. Besides, if we are on different scooters, I cannot point things out to Jessie, to say, This is where we...Do you see this?...Isn't it beautiful?....
I want to go down to Punta Sur, to see the tiny ruin which I call the Alux House. El Caracol, I think is its true name. To perhaps climb the lighthouse, look out over the Caribbean, see the ghosts of pirate ships, of boats carrying Mayan women to come and worship Ixchel.

We will.

There is time. We will. Jessie and I will shop for silver, we will all snorkel, we will have many more meals, we will go down to Playa Corona, we will visit the other side, we will....