Flashbacks

In the midst of Owen-tending, floor cleaning, garbage-taking, laundry-doing, lines-studying, bean-cooking, salad-picking, chicken-watering-and-feeding this is what I am thinking of.


Let's see- what don't I miss about being in Mexico?
Uh. The coffee pot in the room which was too small. It only made two cups at a time.
Yeah. That would be about it.

All of those pictures were taken on Tuesday. Some of them from the back of the moped.

But- here's a good thing. I just mopped the kitchen with Fabuloso which IS the national smell of Mexico, as far as I can tell.
And Owen and I took a very, very sweet nap. His vocabulary has grown a lot since I've been gone. My new favorite thing that he says is, "I DO!" when you ask him if he wants something or wants to do something which he does, indeed want. He sounds like a little groom all day.
I DO!
(Miss Mexico. Oh yes. I DO!)

Where Are My Chiliquiles?

Re-entry is hard. That's just all there is to it.

Hard.

Real hard.

We're Home

And it's cold and I have a mountain of laundry to do and we're exhausted but oh, it was so good to see Owen and his mama and daddy. Owen looks like he's grown so much and he has such short hair and he wanted to sit on the floor of the airport and talk. Which we did.

I'll report in tomorrow when I can. The boy is coming at nine. I have no food here except for eggs and there are plenty of those.

Night, y'all.

Sleep sweetly.

Love...Ms. Moon

Of course the wind has ceased, the sky is blue, the water is...
Magic.
Mr. Moon has gone back to town to return the scooter. The suitcases are filled and overflowing and there is still more stuff to go in.
Why must I buy so many dishcloths?
Who comes to Mexico to buy dishcloths? And fiber cookies?

I really want to thank all of you for coming to Cozumel with me. It sounds like some of you may decide to come here, too. I can't recommend that enough. And if you do, take all the time you can to talk to people here. I just spent a good half hour talking to our waiter whose name is Luis and who has a daughter named Marisol and when she comes to embrace him when he gets home, he cries for the love of her.

When he told me that, I cried.

There is such a sweetness here. There is such a tenderness.

"I live in Paradise," he said, nodding towards the water.
"Yes, you do," I told him. "I'm glad you know that."

On Sundays, the beaches are full of families with their coolers, their children. Their faces are like the faces carved into the stella at the ruins. They are Mayan, they are beautiful, they are proud and kind and funny.

I was so tempted to get a tattoo last night of Ixchel. Of course I didn't. But I was so tempted.

"You will come back," Luis said. "Maybe you will meet my daughter."

"Maybe I will bring my grandson," I told him. "They could meet too."

Who knows? Or, as they say here, "Quien sabe?"

I am wearing my earrings. I'll have to take them off before I go through screening. I love the way they feel, so smooth in my fingers when I reach up to touch them. They are my reminder, as if I needed one, of this place.

Thank-you for coming with me. Thank-you for coming home with me.

I'll be reporting in tomorrow on how things are in Lloyd, Florida. Another world, mine too.

Here we go.

Love...Ms. Moon

Dia Ultima

Ah, lah. The wind is still whipping, it is overcast. We have not begun to pack. We are drinking coffee.
I don't see a soul up here at Hotel B although I am sure they must be. The waiters last night at the fiesta were still the same ones who were here at breakfast. How do they do it? What would happen if suddenly all of the roles were reversed and the waiters became the waited upon, the guests became the waiters?
I wonder about things like that.

Well. We need to get busy. I can feel myself being pulled towards home.
I can't wait to see everyone. My babies, my babies. They have all done a good job of taking care of each other but I know I am needed. That is not a bad feeling.

Time to pack. Time to take the scooter back. Time to say good-bye. Time to fly home and say hello.

I don't know why you say good-bye, I say hello.

Sssh, wind. Be calm now. Sssh heart. Be calm now.

All is well.

I Know How The Junkie Feels

Ay-yi-yi.

I got earrings. See above.
Also, that man. He caught me catching him and so posed for a picture. How I am going to miss getting on the scooter behind him, holding him tightly as we drive down the road by the sea, through the neighborhoods, flirting with the babies on the scoots in their mama's arms beside us.
Jesus God, how I am going to miss it all.

We went to town, we had drinks, we bought these earrings, we went to supper, we went to a bar where there was live music, we stayed long enough to want to come back, we got here and there is a band again tonight. Un fiesta! I think it's the same band that played the other night and please let them not play all night again.

But. They played an entire set of Beatle's songs. Okay. Young. Mexican guys playing Beatle's songs. On the beach. In Cozumel.
I have to tell you. I walked out by the water and I thought, Okay, god, if that's the deal, go ahead.

I have no idea what that means.

Fuck it. I give up. All night I've been thinking about Keith Richards and how he must have felt when he was a junkie and had slipped the last bit of dope into his arm. Such ecstasy. Such sorrow.

But Cozumel is not dope. It is real, it is here.
But for me, it is ecstasy.

I hear that in Lloyd it is freezing tonight. And will be cold tomorrow. I didn't even bring a pair of socks to wear home.

But Lily and Jason and Owen are going to meet us at the airport. I wonder if Owen is going to be all pissed off and cool and all oh yeah, there you are of if he's going to be really happy to see us.
Who knows?
Not me.
That's one thing that hasn't changed.

I do not know shit.

But I do know that he is going to have to suffer my embraces, my kisses.

As Mr. Moon may also have to do tonight.

Ay-yi-yi.

Sweet, sweet sorrow. Sweet sorrowful ecstasy.

The wind is singing a song of deep sighs and the moon is a silver skull grin above me in the dark black sky.

Cozumel. Cozumel. Ah. Cozumel.

Our last sunset and it was merely a slice of lemon which puddled into the sea and then slipped down.
No fire yet, although there may be.

I feel something too closely akin to panic to be comfortable.

Why I chose today to read Joan Dideon's Blue Nights is beyond me.

Why the wind is bothering me is a mystery. Rushing, rushing. Perhaps it reminds me of how tomorrow will be with packing up and returning the scooter and checking out and getting to the airport and, and, and...

We've been here forever, for one second, for a lifetime, for this breath's intake.

I wonder how the tiny fish manage to hang on in this current. I can see them, schooled up in the shelter of the coral, swaying with the waves, staying alive until it is calm again.

Last Day

The wind is still whipping and roiling the ocean and tossing the palm trees and yet, it is still so beautiful.
The wind pulls smiles out of people- shoulder shrugs. What are you going to do?
You are going to fly over this deep turquoise/blue/violet/green water, you are going to fly down the streets where the wind will be whipping the laundry on rooftop lines, where people will be wearing jackets because it is winter, winter, even though it is maybe seventy-four degrees. You are going to sit at tables where the waiters anchor the napkins with something, you are going to fly, fly, fly into the jungle where they can't find you, where without a machete you would be trapped for eternity.
You are not going to go snorkeling today but you are going to cry.
There will be saltwater in your eyes, one way or another.

Yes.

Solamente un norte.

That's what our waiter told me tonight. He promised it would only last a few days...
We may spend tomorrow in bed.
And that would not be so bad.

It is blowing so hard that children are flying down the street. They took the huge Mexican flag down at the waterfront. They've removed the pool chairs here at Hotel B.

It's WONDERFUL!

Mr. Moon and I stood in line tonight in the zocaro to get...what? Someone had told us it was corn and worth the wait. So, there we stood. And when we got to the head of the line we got a styrofoam cup of corn kernels cooked in about forty tons of butter and then layered with mayonnaise and sour cream and chili pepper and lime and more and more of the same. It was hot. Thank GOD we only got one cup.
If humans crave fats and carbs above all other foods, this is the perfect food.
CORN WITH MAYONNAISE, Y'ALL!
Shut the fuck up.
It was awesome.

Then we went and had a drink at Woody's where the bartender is from Minnesota but has also been a police officer in Cozumel as he is also Mexican. He says it is harder work to be a bartender but he makes more money doing that. While Mr. Moon watched some game on TV I went and did some more silver shopping. No. I still didn't get anything, but I had some nice conversations. Lord, these people are nice.

Then on to dinner at Abuelo Gerardos and we ate a grilled seafood platter with fish and tiny lobsters and shrimp and conch. And there was rice and mashed potatoes and carrots and squash and onions and guacamole and chips and bread and salsas. And then the waiter brought us tiny plates of delicious chocolate cake AND the very best drink I ever had which was called Beso de Maya, I think, and that means Kiss of the Maya and it had Kahlua and cream and anise and cinnamon.
I could kiss a Mayan all night long.

We walked back in the wind to the scooter and Mr. Moon did not have the key. He was upset. No worries, I said. We'll find it.
We retraced out steps and sure enough, there it was under his chair at Woody's.
We needed the walk in the fresh air anyway.

We came home through the wind and made it safely. Lily had sent me a video of Owen bouncing on the bed and dancing, naked, and I watched it three times.
My boy! I can't wait to get my hands on him again. And on his mama's pregnant belly.

And here we are. The wind whips and the sea crashes.

It will take me all night long to digest this food and half of tomorrow.

Corn and mayonnaise. With sour cream, lime and chili.

Forget the lobster, cake, and Mayan Kisses.

To bed. To bed. To bed.

Solamente un norte.

We will sleep well tonight.

And The Wind Does Blow

We spent a bit of time in town today, having breakfast with Jessie and Vergil and then seeing them off at the ferry dock. Jessie cried at breakfast- I'm pretty sure she did not want to leave the island. I understood but I told her that she would have adventures and she would be so glad when she saw Uxmal.
Then I cried too.
Damn.
Leaky, leaky hearts.
While we were at the ferry dock we watched a pelican dive and dive, each time getting that huge-beak-sac full of water and then the water would disappear and a fish could be seen going down his gullet. It was beautiful the way he crashed face first into the water, so clumsy-looking, so sure of what he was doing.



Mr. Moon let me shop. I hate to shop. I hate it. I don't know why. I can't do it. I didn't buy anything. I only saw one pair of earrings that I was even vaguely interested in and they were too heavy for my old lobes. Silver has gone up so much. It's crazy.

It's been raining a bit on and off today and the wind is strong. The sea sounds like a real ocean and people are still down on the beach, but wrapped up in big towels, three sisters are cuddling and being silly. They remind me of my girls.

When we were in town I stepped into the church. I took a picture of the Virgin of Guadalupe's statue. I did not light a candle this year. I do not know why.


I am feeling more love for Ixchel this trip and they have no altars for her in that church.
I also took that picture you see in the new header. I do love the nativity scenes here. They add all sorts of animals that we do not. Chickens and rabbits. How lovely! And I have no idea who that little princess is. Is she a shepherdess? If so, I am 100% behind it. You know damn well that it would not be all men who came to look at the baby. There would be a trail of women walking into and out of that manger. And they would have brought the gifts Mary could have used. Extra diapers, some food. A jug of water, some eggs. A blanket or two.

Here. I'll put in another picture of the nativity, just in case you're reading this in the future sometime and have no idea what I'm talking about.

Why is it that in the nativity, the baby is always about two years old? You never see an actual newborn represented. Was Christ born as a toddler? I hope not.

So. We shopped. We walked up to the place where you can get delicious fried fish and shrimp. We sat at the counter and ordered.

I am getting GOOD, y'all, at ordering food.
One of the ladies who was working behind the counter had three of her sons with her and they were a pain in her ass. But she didn't yell at them. She kept telling them to sit down but of course they didn't. They stayed out of the street. I was impressed.

Here's what my sandwich looked like:


I put habanero mayonnaise on it and lime juice. That's what that lime slice is for. No, I was not drinking tequila. I had a Fanta Orange. It was delicious. All of it.

And now we're back at the room and the wind is blowing so hard that the umbrellas are flying around before the waiters can tie them down. One escaped into the pool. It was rescued.
They just seem to take everything in stride here. It's such a mixture of complete chaos all the time and total tranquility. I can't explain it. It's like when the mother was trying to run a lunch counter and take care of her sons at the same time and the fish was frying and traffic was going by and loud frantic music was playing and every time she got a second she started rolling fish in flour again, her eyes calmly keeping watch over everything as her hands did what they needed to do without any other help.
I know, that didn't make much sense.
I'm sorry.

It's nap time.

I think I'll leave it at that.

I sort of wish I'd bought those earrings. Oh well. I know where they are.

I probably won't, though. I probably won't.

Buenos Dias

I have not seen very, very thin woman since New Year's Eve day. I heard her shower running that night, the hair dryer. Is she gone? I do not know.

The water is choppy this morning, the sky is overcast.
Oh well.
The weather changes like a mood here.

Here is a joke Rogellio told us yesterday:
Why is Disney World like titties?
Both are made for children but adults can enjoy them too.
Haha!
I love that!
I can't believe I've lived in Florida all of my life and I've never heard that joke. Had to come to Mexico to hear it.

Ah-lah. Two more days. Yes, now it is time to count. And I will jump back into it with both feet. Owen is coming to me on Thursday and I have rehearsal Thursday night.

I can't even believe it.

Have you noticed that I don't swear very much in Mexico? It's true. I doubt I've said motherfucker since I've been here. I just don't feel the need.

Mary Moon is profane. Maria Luna is not.

I think that's all I have to say right now. We're about to go to town and meet Jessie and Vergil at the clock tower and have some breakfast and see them off on the ferry. Sigh. They will go have Yucantian adventures.

I still haven't bought one thing except a cloth bag in shades of blue and purple. Not one silver thing at all. Or anything. Well, you know- coffee, rum, tiny bananas.

I just saw a hummingbird. At night the bats boil out of the top of the hotel and fly into the sky and across to the jungle to eat mosquitoes.

Good morning, good morning. Good morning.

Family

Well, there you go. Mr. Moon with Rogillio and his youngest daughter. Or is it Rogellio? Well, I don't know but either way, there you go.
When we got to Playa Corona today, Rogellio and his son, J.J. were there and so we got to meet the grown-up boy. The last time I saw him he was just a small boy. Now he's seventeen and kept his papa up all night last night, worrying about him.
Rogellio put his head in his hands and said, "I never thought this would happen to me."
Haha!
Just wait 'til those beautiful girls get old enough to go out on New Year's Eve. He'll never get any sleep. Ever.


I was so pleased that he went and got his daughters to meet us. What a beautiful family!
And to make it all even better, the reef at Playa Corona is recovering from Hurricane Wilma, finally, and it was a beautiful time snorkeling, too.

Just a really, really fine day.

We sat and talked for quite a while and caught up on things. How precious it was for us to see his children, for him to meet Jessie and Vergil. What fine children he has. And he is so proud of them, as he should be.

Jessie and Vergil are leaving tomorrow for the mainland to go and see Uxmal. They asked us if we wanted to go but I can't bear the thought of leaving the island. Only two more days here. No. I'm right where I want to be.

It was a very good day and a good evening, as well. Dinner was lovely and then a walk around the square. I keep saying that Cozumel would be perfect if it just had more blue water, more friendly people, more good food and more beautiful children.
Yeah. It would be perfect then.
Oh wait...
Yeah.

I see houses with clothes strung to dry on the roofs. I think I could do that.

Well. I have a clothesline where I live.
And babies, the ones all grown up, the one still a boy, the one-to-come.
And chickens.

And I miss them SO much. So very, very much. Well, the babies. It'll be good to see the chickens, but it's the babies I live for, whom I must come home for.
(Did you notice I did not mention the dogs?)

When we left Playa Corona this afternoon, Rogellio said, "Keep having life." Or something like that.

Okay.

You too, Rogellio. You too. Let's all keep having life.

You too.

She Is The Crone

The band, the horrible band, played last night until four a.m. right beneath us and people partied all night long and it was pretty funny, especially when they did Jimi Hendrix, but sort of horrible too.

Well, we were awake at midnight.

Today the sea is beautiful and that's a happy new years right there. May it always forgive us, this sea. May we all be forgiven our sins, no matter how large or small, even if the sins are not really sins, but small omissions and commissions, and may we find peace.

I dreamed the other night of my basement full of the ghosts of the Titanic and all of their clothing and jewelry and everything, just as it was the night it sank, THAT dream, and I went down and I yelled at all the ghosts to leave and I called someone from a history department to come and get rid of everything, EVERYTHING.

I don't know if that means anything and right now I don't know anything but what I do know is that I don't have to know. And as soon as I am quite sure that I have uncovered a truth, it is revealed to the sand under the shifting water, always moving, always changing, but beautiful in every weather, or at least it is if I perceive it to be so.

Guess what I learned yesterday at Las Ruinas? That Ixchel, besides being the goddess of everything almost was also the giver-of-writing to people.

The moon, childbirth, weaving, sex, the sea, writing.

That she is portrayed as the young woman with the rabbit who lives in the moon, as the mother, and as the crone.

Guess which one I am?

They partied until four here, people. They danced and they sang and they ate and they drank and they blew on noise-makers and I laid in my bed above them and I did none of those things because we were tired and had driven around the island and walked the ruins, my feet walked on the sacred white way of the sacbes and I saw the altars to Ixchel and I was the crone.

Random Pictures, Last Day Of 2011, Day Of The Iguana

Happy New Year's, Y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon

Patterns

The little boy with the butterfly eye-lashes is a pistol, that one. He has a little fit almost every morning and his mama has to soothe him. Oh, he is my stand-in for Owen whom I hear has gotten a haircut and who hates it so much that he won't take off his hat.
My poor, shorn Baby Sampson!

I am feeling shy this morning. But I have to get over it. We are going to ride across the island. Maybe go see some ruins. The other side's beach is wild and turbulent.

New Year's Eve. That's what I hear it is.

Today I resolve to try and do what that pool says.

Just Be.

The man has finished raking the sand. It is perfect. Not one footstep has disturbed the pattern.

I would rake that sand every day. That would be enough for me.

The sea's pattern changes with every earth-breath. That too, is enough for me. It is a cradle which rocks my soul gently.

Imagine

If I could, I would take a picture of the way the moon looks right now over the water. I have tried but it does not come out. Imagine this- silver crescent in smile position over the water, pathway of silver beneath it leading to the Yucatan Peninsula and ending in the approximate place of Tulum.
Imagine that.
Imagine soft air, perfect temperature for human beings.
Imagine water slapping rocks beneath you.
Imagine having had supper in a courtyard with a tree that had a sign on it that said, "Mamay Tree, 1880."
Imagine a waiter who laughed at everything and then brought the girl-child a shot of tequila. Imagine the girl-child kissing her man. Imagine the ride home on the scooter. This part of the ride smells of cigars, this of jungle, this of flowers.
Imagine kissing your own love. Imagine lying down in the darkness and then waking to turquoise made liquid before your eyes, black birds singing one perfect trilling note.

Imagine how, when you dip your face beneath the water, not one of your troubles, not one of your cares is living there.

Imagine riding down the road in paradise.

Yes. It is like that.

Yes. It certainly is.

My Heart. Oh, My Heart

There, there. The legs at the top left. They are hers. Very, very thin lady. I saw her walking to town today. She does everything so deliberately. So slowly. No wasted motion at all.
"Hola, Buenos Tardes," she said when she came in this afternoon.
"Hola, Buenos Tardes," I said.
Vergil and I were waiting on Mr. Moon and Jessie down by the motos to go to the grocery store.
"There is a story there," I whispered to Vergil.
"I think there is," he said.

We went to the mercado today and saw fishes and pieces of animals hanging from the ceiling and plastic ware and so many shoes. We got liquados y jugos de fruta. We met three men in the hot tub from London who were in Cozumel for two hours before flying out to Belize. They were British and droll as British people are. That tiny boy whom I have been heart-fluttering over for days got in the hot tub with us. He and his familia are from Mexico City. His eye-lashes are like black butterflies. He is trouble. I grabbed his toes and pretended to take them off. He put his feet back up in the water for me to get them again. His parents said that I could take him and the other two boys as well. They were joking. But they knew an abuela when they saw one.

We went to Mega which is like Walmart but it is in Spanish. We bought rum and cookies and more coffee and water. We drove home and the sun was setting and I began to cry again.

There was hot water for our showers tonight. We are going to town to meet Jessie and Vergil for dinner.

The bougainvillea is blooming as are the hibiscus.

How can I leave this place? I don't have to yet.

Thank god.

Morning

Hummingbirds in the flowers below. Overcast, calm.

I look up to see a boat the size of China silently going by. It is decorated in streamers of colors- fun guaranteed!

We are waiting for Jessie and Vergil who are renting a scooter and we are going to town for breakfast and then Playa Corona, maybe, to hang and snorkel. I have to study my script. I am starting to panic. Why, why, why did I think I could do this?

I keep dreaming of a friend I had once who is, like very, very thin woman, very, very thin. In my dreams she is the music director of a church. She is working at a bar. She is making overtures of friendship.

Very, very thin woman ate her breakfast. I cannot just approach her. You have no idea of the walls she has around her, whether of her making or merely perceived on my part. I am so tempted to take a picture of her but that would be so wrong.

Perhaps she is the mistress of the Mexican president who is on the island with his family. Or so I hear.
Probably not.

When I see her, I smile, she smiles. That's the best I can do.

One of the black grackle-like birds with the huge tail is standing on the rocks below, finding tiny things to eat.

We are all here, at this place in Cozumel. The people, the birds, the lizards, the fish.

The children are here. Children! Ha!

Love...Me.

More Questions

We have been here at Hotel B for all of six days and so many changes have occurred, the main one being that Victor is gone. He was here yesterday morning, then he disappeared. I asked about him today and the man said, "Oh, I am not sure. I think he went back to Canada," which is a bold-faced lie, I am not kidding you.
Something happened.
And since he's been gone, the damn tape has not been changed once and the music is weird Euro-New-Age stuff and THEY NEED TO SHUT IT OFF!
Arghh.
Besides that, all is well.

The people who were eating dinner when we left to go to town are still sitting at the same table and we drove to town, met Jessie and Vergil, had a drink, walked to another restaurant, had a fine dinner, and walked blocks and blocks to the coffee place and had coffee and then walked blocks and blocks back and got on the scooter and came home.

They are enjoying themselves. Yes, they are.

I wonder where Victor is?

Underwater And Above

The sun has set and the moon-smile is peeking in and out of the clouds and people are having dinner downstairs and Jessie and Vergil are walking back to their hotel and Mr. Moon is watching FSU football on the TV which they installed so fortuitously just in time for the game.
We're going to get on the scoot here in a little while and go meet the young people at the clock tower in the zocaro and go from there to supper.
Mr. Moon is thinking he wants a piece of pork at Casa Denis which he saw the other day while we were having our reasonable bowl of sopa de lima. It was like an entire pork leg and he hasn't been able to stop thinking about it since. Casa Denis is the oldest restaurant on the island, supposedly and the waiter at lunch reminds me of both Keith Richards and Honey Badger- he don't give a shit plus, he's pretty old but still functioning quite well. He doesn't even use glasses. I told Mr. Moon the other day that we go to Casa Denis solely for that waiter- his charming and merry personality. Haha!

When I went on my walk this morning, I met Jessie and Vergil strolling up the road and it was a good day. We went snorkeling. Vergil, of course, has a camera which takes underwater pictures.
Here are a few:

Merman Vergil.

Mermaid Jessie.


My favorite species of fish. No, I do not know it's name. The little black one with electric blue spots.

Here we are at lunch. Well, I'm taking the picture.

This SO does not suck. Thai ceviche? Bless my heart. It was good.

Very, very thin woman seemed changed today. She was more animated. I swear, she looked like she has gained a pound or two. She had her hair up and I saw her check her phone and drink a beer!
I was astounded.

I saw an iguana today. I did not have my camera. I'm sorry. I'll try harder.

Time to go get dressed. Time put on my going-out clothes. Time to go eat a half a pig.
Or...something.

Later, y'all.
Love...Ms. Moon

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....

Today

Resting Day

I am having my resting day. I feel like a new mother on the third day after the baby comes, which is the day the midwives say that the milk and the tears both come in, even though this is the fourth day or is it the fifth? Time. Whatever. And I am not crying.

It IS the day that Jessie and Vergil are coming and I am resting up for that. I am nesting in this room, my fantasy of doing nothing but lying on the bed with the sea in front of me come true.
My belly is a bit achy but I am not sick nor have I had any real gastric distress. I did not get my chicken enchiladas last night but another chili rellenos as the restaurant we had the cab driver take us to in the rain did not have chicken enchiladas (what, what?, what!) but they did have the most delicious white bean soup and there were more local people there than tourists so it must be an okay place to eat. There was an entire table of women, perhaps a dozen or more, and if I am not wrong, they were of the sisterhood, and when I say sisterhood, I guess I mean lesbians, and most of them had very short hair but stylish, also, and wore golden sandals and so forth and not necessarily "sensible shoes," but still...
They seemed so happy. All of them were lit with smiles. I wish I had known what exactly was going on. I am so curious.
I have not seen Very, Very Thin Woman today. Is she still here? I think so but am not sure. She probably needs a break from me trying to observe her from the corner of my eye. Yesterday she was eating breakfast at the same time we were and she ate all of her fruit, very slowly, and when she got her eggs and beans and chilaquiles she had perhaps two tiny bites of the juevos mexicana and that was all but she spent a good half hour, buttering and eating the white toast they bring with strawberry jam.
She is not American.
She was struggling with the beach umbrella yesterday and I got up to try and help her. She has the most beautiful smile and teeth. "It is very...strong," she said and it was heavy, the base of it where it sits, and I said, "We need a man!" and then there was one of the waiters, coming down the steps to help us.
"Thank-you," she said.
I tell you, she is hardly as big around as my one thigh and my thighs are hardly the biggest part of me.
Some people compel our curiosity and some do not. There is not so much to wonder about when it comes to large families and children or to young couples, even if they are of another nationality. There is familiarity there, no matter the language, the tattoos, the color of their MacBooks.
Yes! MacBooks come in red and black, at LEAST! I have seen this with my own eyes. Why are we restricted to no-color? Huh?
Everyone has electronic devices. iPads at the very least. Even I with my Kindle which almost seems like an ox cart surrounded by jet packs. I love the Kindle. I just finished reading Ann Patchett's State of Wonder and hated to see it go.

So anyway, curiosity killed the cat but it has never harmed me.

Anyway, I have sent Mr. Moon off to explore on his own this morning and to turn in the scooter and trade up for a car so we can take Jessie and Vergil around. Mexicans may ride en familia on scooters but Vergil and Jessie and Mr. Moon and I would add up to more than two dozen foot-lengths and no way, Jose. It is a sight, just to see me and Glen on one, his knees sticking way out into traffic. I am happy here this morning, just to lay on the bed and read, to sit here and write this.

So happy. The past few days have been enough to fill me up so full that I need to be still and collect myself. And who knows? I may have picked up a tiny bug but it will pass. Sopa de lima for a late lunch will cure me. I do not feel sick so much as just lazy, my bones and hips a bit louder than usual and it's fine, it's beautiful, it gives me this excuse to do nothing I really do not want to do; this evening I will get my hands on that girl and her boy and I am aching for them, for all of my children, really, and for Owen. Every child I see reminds me of him or of the one to come. There was a chattering boy at the table next to us at breakfast this morning, he sounded like a bird talking in Spanish, his voice rising and rising with the excitement of it all and there was a beautiful little girl baby, maybe six, seven months, her eyes as blue as this water, and she looked at me and Glen with great seriousness and attention and it was all I could do not to scoop her up or at least to reach out and touch the merest tip of her tiny fingers. She had tiny gold earrings in her ears and she was perfect.

I keep feeling like I am forgetting to put things down here - oh yes - the little girl who came running after us in the downtown two days ago after Mr. Moon had exchanged money. She could not have been more than six and her mama had sent her off to find us because they thought we had left a ticket of some sort there. She explained in Spanish when she caught up to us at the church and we had no idea what she was talking about- I know the word for "ticket" but couldn't get more than that and another woman translated as much as she could and we followed her back through the shops (she knew all the backways and short-cuts), her black hair swinging with the sturdy, important stride of her, to make these two Gringos follow her back to the small exchange office where she presented us to the mama and no, it was not our ticket, but if it had been, wouldn't we have been grateful to have gotten it?

I wish I could give you all of this, all of these pictures that are in my head, the tiny children and the tinier old women, the way town had almost shut up last night due to the wind and the rain- a town with few walls must necessarily do so- and this water in front of me, choppy today but as fabulously blue as Tropical Fabuloso, as unbelievably blue as a blue-raspberry Icee.

Ah-lah.

Ah-lah.

It is a resting day and the sweet, strong breeze blows around me, through me, fills me up even more.

Rain

Rain on bougainvillea at night. Cozumel, Mexico.

Ah, here I am, all ready for supper, sparkly eyeshadow and all and it is raining, raining and the wind is blowing and of course, we only have the scooter.
Ah well. There are always cabs.

What a very nice day. We did snorkel and I saw a fish eat a fish! I saw skates and an eel. I saw a barracuda slipping off into the deep. They are shy, those fish. They know that there are people who want to spear them. There is something so incredibly soothing about snorkeling. Maybe it is, as one of you dear ones said in a comment (I am reading them, I am cherishing them!) that snorkeling is like a meditation. You breathe in and you breathe out. You can hear your breath, it is steady and slow as you move through the water. Your eyes are focused on the coral walls and the tiny fish swimming in and out of them, the larger fish, schooled up and treading water, waving back and forth with the current. There. That is all you need. That breath, that sight. It is so amazing to me that you can be so close to the surface that you can hear the birds call while being in a completely different world, so very, very close and yet, unless you are in it with a mask, there is no comprehension of it at all. It might as well not even be there.
But.
There.
You are and it is there and there are probably worlds upon worlds we have no idea of.

I took a beautiful walk this morning. Mr. Moon started out with me but he has a blister and had to come back to the room to get a band-aid. On my way home, I found him, sitting on a bench, waiting for me. I was so glad to see him. On my walk I saw men cutting the grass with machetes in front of villas. I saw a woman walking with another woman and she had her beach things in a bundle on her head. She was so straight and so golden that I thought perhaps she was a statue, walking. I saw four very old abuelas, walking together, holding each other up. They wore dresses in butterfly colors. I saw butterflies of red and black and yellow.

We drove down to Playa Corona at sunset time. Would Rogellio be there? The Mayan pirate? Oh yes, there he was, big as life.
"You are still alive!" he said. "I was just thinking of you!" He shook Mr. Moon's hand and hugged me. I couldn't help it. I pressed his head to my lips and kissed his cheek hard. I'll never forget that first time we saw him, twenty-four years ago, standing on the dock. Rogellio does not look like anyone else in this world, believe me. He looks more like himself than anyone I've ever met. I said to Mr. Moon, "Remember when you went night diving with Rogellio? And I was so worried?"
"Is that what we told you?" he said. "Night diving?"
Haha.
I can't wait to introduce Jessie and Vergil to Rogellio. I have known Rogellio longer than Jessie has been alive.

They are getting in tomorrow, those two. Their plane lands at 1-something in Cancun and then they will have to get a bus to Playa del Carmen and then get the people ferry to Cozumel. I have no idea when they'll get here. I hope we're at the ferry dock when they arrive but our back-up plan is for them to meet us at Plaza Leza on the square if we don't. It's a small island. We won't lose them.

Well, the storm may be abating. It was something there for awhile. Rain pouring and lightening and thunder and the wind howling through the outside hallways. Rain is always a blessing, even if it does interfere with your supper plans.

I really want some chicken enchiladas tonight. I am serious.

Plus- sparkly eyeshadow? Hello, Ixchel? I have been doing my best to worship you and all you stand for. Are chicken enchiladas too much to ask?

Ah-lah. There will be chicken enchiladas.

I am in heaven.

And yes, I miss my children. I miss my grandchild. But oh, I have this man here. He is my love and my friend and we are already starting to read each others' minds. This always happens. And tomorrow Jessie will be here. And Vergil. And it will be different but it will be wonderful and if you think that maybe I am trying to figure out how we could all live here, somehow, someway, you are right. Dreams are good. Dreams are like tiny fish that eat tinier fish in order to grow bigger.

All right. That's all I have to say for now.

Buenos noches.

Con amor...Maria Luna

Who, What? Why? Where? When?

What if? she asks herself.
What if? her mind whispers.

She walks and sees wrecks of cement houses, shaded by jungle, fifty yards from that ocean.

Could I? she wonders.
Would I? even more to the point.

Which is a moot one.

But for these days, all of the questions can be entertained.

Why do we limit ourselves to what should be? Why are we so afraid, even to ask the questions? The what could be's?

The most difficult one:

What if?

Morning Again

I woke up early this morning, thinking I would go take yoga. They do yoga here by the sea and really- why should I miss that?
Oh. You know.
Laziness. Inertia.
But. I was going to. I got up, I turned on the coffee. I came out to the balcony to see the sea and the waiters are setting the tables for breakfast and Victor is already here. No yoga lady. I called the front desk.
"No yoga today. It is for tomorrow."
Phew.

Good morning. It is beautiful here in Cozumel. It is a miracle of beauty. It is a a Caribbean dream of beauty. It is...almost too much. I feel as if I can't drink it in enough. As if I do not have all of the proper taking-in organs for this beauty.

Oh wait. There are people going down to the yoga place but not the regular yoga lady who is about fifteen feet tall with a crown of hair wrapped up on her head. Who are these people? They are not the regular yoga people I think. I will not worry about them. I will take a walk later. I will snorkel.

We rented a scoot yesterday. It was so easy. Mr. Moon asked down at the desk. The price was good. We agreed. The scooter man was here in ten minutes with it and the paperwork. No bullshit. Listen- the people here are not trying to rip you off. Believe it or not.
I had told Mr. Moon that I was not going to let him rent a scooter. Too dangerous. One cannot dissuade Mr. Moon, however, when he makes up his mind.
When I got on the back of it behind him, I was so glad.
It was another level of "I am home."
We drove to town through some of the nabes. We parked and walked around and had sopa de lima at Cafe Denis. Same everything. Especially soup. Oh yes.
We drove to Chedraui, the super market. They have EVERYTHING at Chedraui including furniture and tires and washing machines and octopus and shrimps and a mile-long row of yogurts. Deli, bakery. Pharmacy. Baby clothes.
Everything.

We brought the coffee that Kathleen had given us which we have enjoyed so much but we had almost used it up so we bought coffee. We spent fifteen minutes in front of the coffee, trying to read labels. My favorite one claims that it is as hot has hell, as dark as night, as sweet as love. Mr. Moon said, "You're going to buy that kind because of the label, aren't you?"
"No," I said, thinking, why not? We bought some other kind that looks organic. We shall see how it makes up. It is lovely to have coffee on the balcony before we do down to breakfast.
We bought tiny bananas, two mangoes, two limes, more cokes to go with our rum, fancy cookies for Mr. Moon, fiber cookies for me, orange flavor. I cannot buy these in the states. I love them. They are like dense muffins.

We came home, back through the neighborhoods again, then down the sea road to the hotel. We had coffee on the balcony, went down and got in the hot tub for sunset.
Perfecto.

Back to town for dinner. A famous restaurant. Famous with tourists. Oh dear. It was fine. Too many people. The waiters were beside themselves. I asked for dos vasos de agua. They hate that. They want to sell you bottled water. But he barked out the order to another waiter. They were brought. Often they just are not. Well, I understand. It costs them money to buy purified water.
We drank margaritas. Perhaps too much? I couldn't finish mine. Mr. Moon did it for me. Then we went for coffee.
Una mocha, por favor, y una cafe con leche.
Margaritas give me the gift of Spanish.
At least I always think so. Probably not.
Families with babies and children sitting in the cafe, drinking yummy drinks. Artwork on the walls. The mermaid you see above.
People seem to stay up forever here, including children. But I see them in the early morning, too. When do they sleep? We are ready for bed by nine, nine-thirty.
Which was when we went to bed last night.

Very thin alone woman has the room next to ours! She came down to watch sunset yesterday too, but did not get in the hot tub. She got in a hammock and gently swung. She is not just thin, she is a bone. She will smile if you look at her and smile. She is not American. I wonder. I do wonder.

I think today we plan to spend mostly right here. More snorkeling, more reading. They serve a ceviche here which is one of the best things I have ever had. I could live on that and guacamole. With salsa. I think that might be the perfect diet. Not diet-like-lose-weight but diet-like-what-to-eat-to-live.
Maybe with a mango.
Speaking of which, I am the fattest woman on Cozumel not from a cruise ship. I am as fat as an abuela. Oh wait. I AM an abuela.
Oh well.

Jessie and Vergil will be here tomorrow. We rode past the hotel where they have reservations. It is right on the edge of the 'hood. It looks lovely. What a joy it is going to be to see them! I can't even imagine, but I am trying. Again- a concept.

Good morning.
It is beautiful in Cozumel.

Good morning.

These Pictures Just Take Themselves

Images

This place we are staying is very family-oriented and we are actually some of the few USA'ers staying here. There are families of grandparents, children, grandchildren. They swim and snorkel and they kiss and slap backs and this morning an abuela brought out three giant containers of home made cookies and put them on the table for the family and I thought of her, baking those cookies and then bringing them here. She was wearing her bathing suit, a white hat, her granddaughters had legs like colts. They sit at the table for hours, gathering and going off to swim, coming back to sit and talk some more.

There was a woman here for two days whom I never saw with anyone else. She had very long hair and was thin as a knife and she would lay on one of the beach beds and read or just smoke and stare off into the space and every hour or so she would get up and climb down the ladder into the sea and immerse herself and then climb back up and wring her hair and begin it all again. What is her story?

There are children as young as Owen and they play happily from pool to hot tub, always someone to watch them. I saw two brothers play together without incident in the sand this morning for at least an hour, coating themselves and each other with sand like sugar and then building a sand castle with the help of a bucket and shovel.

Families love the hot tub and it is almost always in use, the perfect place to watch the sunset.
The waiters wear black pants and white shirts and the main guy seems to be Victor who is actually from Canada and he works like a dog and has a funny sense of humor.
"I'm sorry the water isn't blue," he will say sadly.
"Or green," I answer.

We walked to town again last night after spending all day here, snorkeling and laying in the shade and reading. For some reason, the walk took about one quarter of the time it had taken the night before. Or so it seemed. I had no idea why. I wasn't really hungry but we found a place for supper and I had some pasta with tomato sauce and fresh cheese and it was good and we watched fire dancers with drummers in the square- not Mexican at all, but Gringos and I thought about what it would be like to be traveling entertainers, spreading fire and drumbeats throughout the continents, passing the hat, trusting on faith. When they are grandparents, they will look back in wonder, thinking, "I did that. I was a beautiful girl who twirled fire, who danced in fire while the drums beat under tropical moons and huge-eyed children watched me, holding the hands of their parents."
It will be something. It is something.

My god. The water is just so blue. It is something I cannot get tired of. I could just watch it all day and yesterday I did when I wasn't in it. Which is better?
I do not have to know. I can choose both.

Today we will walk to town, figure out something to rent to get us around. Sigh. I do not enjoy that part of the trip. Too much bargaining and joking and words.

I have bought two new dish towels. They were in the same grocery store at the exact same place on the exact same shelf as they have always been. They are really mop cloths and they cost about a dollar and they are heavy cotton and last me for years and years. I will bring home a stack of them. The rum was in the same place too and we bought some of that. The rum will not make it home.

I think of home and it's a concept like life on another planet, perhaps.

Oh, the water is blue. And it is green and it is turquoise and it is violet and it is colors we have no words for. Why should we? The water in our country doesn't come in these colors so no need to try and describe them.

My fruit plate this morning had bananas, papaya, watermelon, cantaloupe and orange. I had juevos mexicana with tomatoes and onions and peppers chopped fine and some black beans.

Here I am.

The cruise ships are in this morning but as long as I stay right here, I do not have to even think about them. I can look at them and enjoy the sight of boats as big as continents. At night when they sail away, they are beautiful, like lighted cities floating silently by. They hold a million people but that, too, is just a concept. They come and they go.
I am here.

I am so glad.

Fish Electric, Corals Waving, Purple

We snorkeled today.

I want to be a mermaid as much as I did when I was seven.

Soft Air, Soft Light, Soft Love

You're going to get tired of pictures that look like this.
Oh, too damn bad.
I'm not.

Merry Christmas, y'all.

This might just be the best Christmas of my entire life.

I am so glad to be here. And yes, I cried and sobbed when we flew in. I was sitting there thinking that I didn't even feel a bit like crying. Ah-lah, the magic might be gone. And then it came over me like a fit of being taken-hold of and shaken until the sobs forced themselves out of me.

And thus- I knew I was home again. Or at least, this other home. This home of my woman-soul because I think that is what it is.

We are about to go downstairs and eat our Christmas breakfast. Papaya will be involved. The water is indescribable. The crackles sing their melodious note. The water boils in the tiny bay below me. We walked to town last night and my feet reclaimed this place. We passed the jungle and the huge estate on the water of where El Presidente of Mexico has a home. The walls were huge and covered in vines and giant trumpet flowers bloomed in the darkness.

"Thank-you for coming back," said the man who has been welcoming us to Plaza Leza for twenty-four years. We gave the musicians ten dollars for which they played us three songs. Same faces as forever. Beat-up old guitars, notes coming forth, voices.

The water below me just gets bluer and bluer. And greener and greener. As if it covered emeralds and saphires. I just discovered that spell check here is in Spanish so I am on my own with that. If I make mistakes, forgive me.

Merry Christmas.
Oh, so merry Christmas.

Made It

Adventure!

There's just nothing like getting to the airport at seven thirty a.m. and going to check in and being told that your flight to Atlanta has been delayed because of the regulations about crew rest time which means that you're going to have approximately 15 minutes (if all goes perfectly!) to get on your flight to Mexico which will depart from a completely different county (or, might as well be) and THAT'S THE ONLY FLIGHT TO COZUMEL THE ENTIRE DAY!
So yeah. Who knows? We might be spending Christmas Eve in Atlanta.

You know, I try to be an understanding person but if they have flights scheduled for a certain time it seems to me that they should be able to figure out the crew rest thing. I mean- really.

Oh well. Whatever.
We'll make it or we won't.

I'll let you know.

P.S. DELTA

The stars in Lloyd this morning are as brilliant as diamonds thrown on the jeweler's black velvet.
This is what I know-
I am not running away. I am running towards.
And when our time is up in Cozumel and our eyes are full of the stars of the Yucatan and our hearts are full of the magic we make with each other, we shall come home to this place where our loves live, where we live our love day-by-day with its joys and its work-a-day pleasures and difficulties and we will be the better for it.

My children- I love you so much that my heart bursts.

We'll be back.

Lily- I'll be Grandmother again on Jan. 5. Schedule me in.

Merry Christmas to all.

Love...Me

And Finally, The Wind Ceases

Owen just left. It's like, oh, you know? When you've been in a category four hurricane and then you're not any more?

Yeah. Like that.

When I was putting him in his car seat he pretended to be a lion and scratched me with his mighty claws and roared his mighty roar.

I'm gonna miss that kid.

Time to finish packing.

I'm so tired I don't even have the slightest idea what I'm doing.

Love...Ms. Moon