an ode to Mexico and my husband

I can’t stop dreaming of Mexico.

It comes in waves, this reminder of the first sweet escape with my husband. Especially on these short, cold days, all I want is to be back on the warm sand. In the moment I didn’t see how wonderful it was because of small obstructions in my line of vision. Our room was annoyingly hot. There was a strange incense smell wafting throughout the whole resort. We didn’t know how to vacation all-inclusively. I had set too many expectations. But as I think back on those days, the most prominent memories are of good things. And the not-so-good things? We laugh at them now. What a glorious thing that is.

The breakfast, guys. Oh my. If I could have this one breakfast for the rest of my life, I might reach an eternal state of bliss. Plain yogurt with mounds of muesli and dried bananas and flax seeds and coconut. Roasted tomato halves, all blackened and plump and bursting and sweet. Real nachos at nine in the morning- thick and crispy chips topped with fresh salsa and cotija cheese and endless cilantro. Sauces and salsas of all types to pour over everything. A mysterious and yet addicting green juice of which no one knew its ingredients. And your own personal carafe of thick, black, steaming hot coffee. I can’t even. I would go back just for that.

And then there’s the sun. The beach. The sky, putting on a show every evening with its ombre colors and puffy clouds. The ability to lay on the sand all day with a sweating, salty, limey margarita, thinking only of the characters in your book and what you might do that evening. And this was the kicker. We’d stay on the sand or play on jet skis all day, until it was time to head to the room and freshen up, only to return to the beach for the sky show and an evening walk.  It was just magical. And then we’d fall asleep by eight o’clock to Toy Story. 

Again, I know it wasn’t perfect. But if and when we get to go back, I’ll be sure to scrounge up every little piece of goodness and stow it away. Because time like that is too good, too full of glory to resent the little things. I’m so thankful for that time with Aaron. And I’m learning through each set of sun-up and sun-down that times here at home are worth the same attention and rejoicing and attitude of awe. I love you, Aaron. Thanks for being my husband.