19 of October
Papa’s first day back in Playa was awesome! My family went to Paamul for Sammy, a friend of Kanon and Delilah’s, sixth birthday. Samuel and his twin sister, Danica, are Bekah and Brandon’s kids, a couple we met through our connections with Raquel. The party began around the relative area of their backyard- which I’ll attach a picture of- and slowly, throughout the day, migrated to the Paamul dive shop, restaurant, and pool. When we arrived at the party, Kira and I took offf to explore the farthest reach of the beach ( I’ll share some of those pictures with you too, but if you want to view the whole album, check me out on Facebook.) We had a lovely time, with the dazed breeze flirting with our long hair and the soft crashing of the tide on the rocky outcroppings. I ate for the first time that day when we finally made it back to the house: a bite of pasta Mum whipped up with avocado as a dressing. After my little pep-up, I dragged Kira and Kalin to the other side of the beach, over jagged black rocks that burned wrinkly tattoos into the singed pads of our feet. Halfway between Sammy’s house and the visible end of the beach, Kira and Kalin dropped their things and suited up in their new snorkeling gear Papa brought from America. I laid out on the sand and “watched the grass grow” as my legs grew bronze in the blaze of the mid-afternoon. I didn’t feel comfortable leaving our things laying on the beach with no one to guard them, so that was why I didn’t go explore the ocean with my siblings. In about ten minutes, Papa came walking down the beach with the twins bouncing after him to go to the pool, so I left Kira and Kalin, who now had someone to watch them, and made my way back to the original location of the party.
My neck sparkled with dew drops of sweat as I laid out my towel on the sand in front of the house to relax, unwind my mind, and read Bearing The Cross, which I’ve been shirking on lately. Only eleven, dense pages passed before Papa squatted at my Barbie towel- copyright 2003- and asked if I wanted to go snorkeling with him. I hopped up, packed my book and towel, grabbed my gear, and sized everything out at the waters’ edge. My Pop and I jumped into the eighty-five degree water and surrendered ourselves to forty minutes of the blissful film that surrounded us, enveloped us, and submerged us into the daily lives of the marine animals. After snorkeling and hanging out under the shade of the palm trees with the hammock swaying to the soft melody of the breeze and the twinkling of the water in the setting sun and the shifting, shuffling of the sand, the closers of the party retired to the pool up the beach. A long conversation with Mickey, Brandon, Mum, Papa, and me, listening and interjecting, followed the arrival at the pool. Mum, Kira, and I ended up speeding down the street in a golf cart to check out the community center with Kathy, a prominent member of the Paamul community, where the haunted house for the halloween party was going to be hosted. After talking about the space and the possibilities for the haunted house, I agreed to put together some blueprints for the setup to present to a committee at a meeting on Tuesday. Kira and I also volunteered to come up with theme ideas. All I see ahead of me is work, work, work.
The night concluded with Mickey taking a combie to Tulum, and Emery, Raya, Aja, Kathy, Bekah and Brandon, and Raquel kissing my family goodbye and sending us off into the black night. Driving home, I think the moon must be high tonight, as its jaundiced craters throw back the curtains of carbon paper sky. I belong here; I breathe the incredible miracle that this is where I am, and this is what I’ve done. (PS: Just in case you were wondering, a combie is an old beater bus with a couple seats inside- you usually end up standing as the rickety car bumps along the rough, potholed roads of Mexico. Mostly native workers take combies, but I’ve taken one with Daisy, Lily, and some guys, back when I was still friends with the Larson girls.)