Happy 2025 (to happiness, to happier, to in lieu of non-happiness)

Love is a new pair of Muck boots. My 19-year-old Bogs have been leaking for a year or two, though they are still good for quick trips in and about the yard. anything too wet (fording streams, walking into caves) soaks your socks. Usually, my boots have a layer of mud from the Playa after I come home. I missed a trip this year. 

The snow we've had was so light that boots were unnecessary. It's nice to have these. I wore them into the yard tonight when I brought the birdfeeders in. It has been rainy here for the past four or five days, and the temperature has ranged from the mid-40s to the mid-50s, night and day. Cooler weather is coming. A shift. And that's not just a metaphor.

Happy New Year, happy blank slate.

A day will come/ when my body will no longer open like a suitcase/ to take myself on a journey where I’ll dream/ of never being found, where I’ll dream of never finding/ what I’ve lost.*

Issac would have been 34 this year, born at 3AM on December 24th. Like his sister, there are a lot of poems that mention, are directed or cover our lives. This is one of my favorites.

Daydream

We share no physical characteristics
aside from the arched foot
inherited like an old pot;
my son mirrors his father like a miniature.
But we are entwined in our abilities
to lose ourselves, when being lost is most unneeded.

My own father was quick to point out this defect
as I lulled myself to stupor at the edge of a stream
or sat too long under stars
until shouts of come home had to find me in the dark.

Hard to tell my son that this gene
which makes him seem to slumber in the classroom
or linger too long over chores
is something to tuck away
until time allows for an all-afternoon laze
of conjured dreams;
a place I will never dim as we sit, silent,
                                            shoulders touching slightly.

* 

Fig of Unfolding

Octavio Quintanilla

Ciudad de México

 

We arrived in Mexico City late, and there were lines of people making their way to the Basilica of Guadalupe (Basilica de Guadalupe). It was December 11, the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe. A pilgrimage for many from all over Mexico and the world. The taxi driver asked if we knew of it, and I said a tiny bit. It was already 10 PM and the streets were filled --going the opposite way – but within 40 minutes we were at our Airbnb in the Roma Norte district. We were late arriving; our flight had been delayed from Saint Louis on American Airlines to Dallas and we would have missed the connection. Jerry went to work and got us onto a flight to Houston with a follow-up to Mexico City on United, unfortunately, we lost eleven hours. The American Airlines flight never did leave. But perspective is always necessary with travel, just as we found out about the delay and got to a quiet place to regroup, we saw a man coming off a plane on a stretcher receiving CPR. The paramedics took him away, and shortly after a woman in a wheelchair and two people with luggage followed. Then everyone else de-planed. Witness to a pilgrimage of another sort, people were quietly gathering as we headed to the other airline.
    It was our first time in Mexico City (many trips to Tijuana while in San Diego but never any further) and we enjoyed our visit. A lot of walking, a lot of sitting in the sun and watching the city go by, museum visits (Frida Kahlo sold out until the end of the year, I didn’t research tickets enough!), some wonderful food and good sleep for the most part. There was one night when Club America beat Monterrey in football (soccer) for a three-peat (apparently a first!) and the party in the streets went on until the early morning. The synchronized horn blowing and revving of engines was a good touch. The day after was a Sunday and we spent a quiet late morning visiting nearby parks, a dangerous place as there was a pet adoption event happening, but also a market for pet products. Lots of dogs and some cats (looking so bored with it all!). Temptation.
    Here's an interesting thing we found, there are special admission tickets for a lot of museums. If one is over 60 the tickets are discounted or free. (My very favorite price) And we found a park where only seniors are allowed. What?!? And it is a gorgeous park, full of wide, level paths, lots of benches, statues and fountains. Plus, they have rooms for classes and a kitchen. Jerry was invited to play dominoes, but we were heading back to our neighborhood, so he had to decline.
    Across the street from our lodging was a school we could see from our balcony. One morning the children were practicing a dance move, a few days later a program of some sort was happening in the same area. Adore!