I showed up looking the best I could given the circumstances. I was wearing flip-flops, board shorts, and a modified Pizza My Heart tee shirt. I was carrying a tennis racquet and a Churchill fin in my left hand and four small oranges in my right hand. My backpack was filled with all my technology. It was 9:30 in the morning. I rang the chimed bell that was situated on the rod iron gate. Bougainvillea up the kazoo. Pita and Lucy were going nuts.
The kind lady from New Jersey saw that it was me and came right out. She asked if I had made a decision or not. I told her that I had decided to stay and that I was humbled and grateful for the arrangement they were providing. I got down on one knee and quietly began to showcase my pseudo mastery with one of her canines. The nice lady took notice of that pseudo ability. She offered me an ice cold Peligrino in a glass cup. Was there a Trader Joe’s in town that I didn’t know about?
I set my stuff down in my new room and took a half nap. It had been a long couple of days. Puerto had me in the grind of late, and I was in need of some peace and quiet. Most of my belongings were still way up in The Lazaro District, and God only knew when I was going to get them back. I didn’t care. Something poignant was within smelling distance. A new beginning was in the process of flushing my system.
Box of chocolates? Long, strange trip? As I sat alone under an enormous rooftop palapa, high amongst the Coconut, Mango, and Ficus trees, I couldn’t help but think about what was coming next. Seventeen years ago to the very hour, I proudly walked down the aisle in Reno, NV with some young lady I once knew. Today I am existing alone in a three year new custom mansion in the warm tropics with an East Coast Gringo Lady, a brilliant Oaxacan Man, two rescued canines, and one small green parrot.