Some Times… .

by lisa st john

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I apologize for the lack of hypertext that I consider a mainstay of this blog, but it’s getting dark and sometimes I just need to let the words speak alone.

Is there anything more beautiful (sometimes) than a black nondescript dog running on the beach? “Sometimes” appears to be the key. The incongruous Ozzie Osbourne bordering the Yucatan sunset is making me somehow feel better about the lack of a self I have been worrying like a mosquito-bite scab. 

My bag didn’t arrive so afternoon beers and swimming and (probably) dinner will be in my sundress and bathing suit packed in the carry on bag. Foresight is a good thing . . . sometimes. Would I get here and be lost? Would I get here and be sad(der)? Admittedly I wondered more about how I would feel in Mexico alone rather than what I would pack.

“Traveling alone today?”
“Only one?”
“How many keys? Just one?”

 Yes. Let me be reminded again. Actually, I am closer to love here. Here in the ocean waves there is no such thing as alone.

 

My suit is wet and hanging on the air-conditioner in my room so I sit here at the bar smoking and not taking an iPhone picture of the sunset that won’t really capture…anything. Sitting here (commando) and wondering how much I will buy if my bag does not arrive, realizing that I won’t need half of what I packed anyway. Sometimes I know I need to stop and look at myself alone and figure out who the hell is here. Hoping it will be easier with no schedule and not so much stuff.

 

 

 

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