Good morning from Lloyd where I do not feel like a bad ass at all any more, that is over, done, and here I am, just an old woman again with her chickens and her cats and her darling husband whose birthday it is today.
Lord. I'm tired.
I am trying very hard to decide how to write about my trip. I don't want to let it go. I want to make it something that I can look back on and use to remember. I am not sure where to start.
Right now I am eating some watermelon that Mr. Moon cut up and an egg that Camellia laid which I scrambled. I am thinking of the breakfast that our landlady and her daughter made for us every morning.
First, coffee. It came in a nice little pot whose sister pot held hot milk. There were sugar and honey to go with. There was always a plate for each of us with cut-up pineapple, banana, mango, guava, papaya and watermelon. And an egg with carrots and cucumbers on the side. And a basket with bread. And a plate with cheese, guava paste, and butter. And a liquado- a smoothie of sorts, every day a different fruit being the main ingredient.
I couldn't possibly eat it all and to even touch it seemed like a small desecration of an art work.
I couldn't possibly express to Miranda, our hostess, how much I appreciated and enjoyed that breakfast. She spoke no English and my Spanish was vastly too small and inadequate.
I kept finding myself crying at the oddest times in Cuba, once in the art museum with such intensity that our group leader, Soledad, asked me with great concern if I was all right.
Lis, my knowing sister-woman, said, "She does this. She's fine."
And I was. But I couldn't stop crying.
A friend we'd made who was with us, a beautiful young man named Feliz, put his arms around me and said, "No, don't cry. Don't cry, Mary."
"It's okay," I told him. "It's just my heart is too much right now."
He nestled his head between my head and shoulder, and patted me.
Can you guess I am crying now?
I bought a poster of the picture which made me cry and I still can't tell you exactly what it is about that picture that burst my heart in two.
And here is a link to a website about the artist, Thomas Sanchez.
That work is entitled "Relacion."
If I have ever seen anything which represents "all is one" better than that, I don't know what it is. Perhaps that is why it makes me cry.
And now I think perhaps I should go start some laundry.