This happens every night.
Because you can spend an entire day right at your hotel and put on a mask and fins and a snorkel and dip into the water and see a world which is hidden from view but exactly right there, all the time including a ray five feet across, fly/swimming over the sand and tiny fish the size of my littlest toe, black with blue electric lights.
Because you can be alone with your love and you can sleep when you want and you can read when you want and the dock is always there to stand on or sit on and you can watch the clear, clear water as it moves and sighs and because the Maya are sailors and sea people and there are always boats coming and going, crossing and coming in and going out. Because you can talk to the girl at the desk and both of you tear up and touch your hearts when you are looking at the water together and speaking of Cozumel.
Because you can go get your supper and have this served to you before your dinner even gets there and it is hot and hotter and hottest and delicious and the burn is so sweet.
And because when the waiter brings you an iron platter of fajitas and it is audibly sizzling and visibly steaming, smoke rising up from the wine he just poured over the meat and peppers and onions and he sets it before you he does not feel the need to say, "Watch out! This is really hot!"
Because they are rocking out at the Catholic church these days and this little nino was dancing and looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was looking.
And because right downtown in the middle of everything, there are places where people live, tucked in between stores and restaurants, decorated all to heaven for Christmas and there are pictures of the family on the wall and the senor is watching TV in the corner as the world walks by and it is all open to God and to everyone.
And because I do not know, it all just is. The water, the people, the sky, the boats, the fishes, the food, the children, the dogs, the birds, the jungle, the butterflies, the flowers, the smiles, the wind which right now is fluttering the palm fronds in an almost frantic dance as the waves bash and crash the dock. Because of the man who comes by every day selling churros, still warm from his kitchen, filled with chocolate and with vanilla.
Because even the smell of Fabuloso makes me happy.
All of this. And all of the rest of it too.
I am in love.