Yesterday morning my Mexican cat friend did not seem to want us to leave. She kept getting in the suitcases and then, when they were packed, laid down upon them for a nap.
Of course she will miss me. Who else fed her leftover pork, eggs, and cheese?
Oh, my Bagheera!
And then, last night when we got home and went to shut up the chickens in the dark, who came trotting to join us but Maurice and I have to say that this cat, as crazy as she is, missed me.
She got in the bed with me and snuggled me all night long. I don't think we moved at all. And this morning she kept throwing her body on me and arranging my hand to lay on top of her and even kissed me on the lips.
And did not draw blood.
I considered staying in bed all day but reconsidered. I had thought that perhaps I would go to town today but Jessie and Lily bought me food and I really see no real reason to make that journey. I journeyed plenty yesterday and although I do feel a slight amount of guilt, knowing that my husband got up and went to the gym and is now at work, fielding calls and dealing with REAL LIFE, I don't feel enough guilt to actually get in the car and drive to the grocery store.
Which I don't really need to do anyway so fuck that.
I have a ton of laundry to do because I did not wash so much as a pair of panties while I was gone. TWO WEEKS WITHOUT DOING A BIT OF LAUNDRY. OR TOUCHING A BROOM. OR TURNING ON A STOVE.
It's like a dream.
I look out on this gray day in North Florida and actually, those two weeks in Cozumel do already seem like a dream. Waking up to walk out and look at that clear water, the boats coming in and going out, the clang of the dive tanks, the soft Spanish being spoken all around me, the greetings, the "do you want to go to breakfast?", the decisions, the vast and important decisions about what to have for my morning meal and what shall we do today?
Having my husband beside me every minute.
Yesterday was a rude awakening, coming back to the states. Customs in Miami is simply a cluster fuck and no one really seemed to know what was going on and there was rudeness and I'll tell you something I learned- you may not be able to get on a plane with over three ounces of a liquid but you can damn sure carry a cudgel. We brought back Mr. Moon's walking sticks and although a few security people gave us second looks, no one said a thing. I wondered if people thought we part of some Moses cult.
Who cares? We are old and we made it home and it was so precious to see Lily and Jason and those three grandchildren and I have woken today to find all of this.
The camellias are blooming and the chickens are all alive and the garden is thriving.
And Jessie left my house in such good order.
So I will stay home today and I will do laundry and I will go collect my mail and I will make a soup, I think, and maybe a loaf of bread, and Jessie and August may come out to see me and I am floating between worlds and countries and existences and identities and roles and tomorrow Magnolia June turns one year old and I brought her a pretty little red dress from Mexico to wear.
We are home.
It is time to settle back in.
One more picture- the boys wearing their luchador masks we brought them.
You haven't been hugged until you've been hugged by a small luchador. Repeatedly.
Much love...Ms. Moon