Something Happened

If the purpose of a vacation is to relax and not do anything, it makes no sense to set goals. It would be like making a plan to be spontaneous. But not doing anything was only one of the things I wanted to accomplish, and I did it one day in June staying in bed until three in the afternoon.

I dropped two belt holes, due probably to trips up and down Alameda to downtown or hikes to the top of Cerro de la Sirena. I read seven books and kept a weblog for each day in Mexico. I lost at chess, saw short films and danced to Barro Negro in the funky back room of Bar Fly. I participated in the creation of friendships and re-booted some others. The grocer hugged me on the way here to the internet, because we leave for Phoenix in an hour.

And what is that? In my heart I have no idea of what Phoenix is anymore. Something happened in fifty-two days in Mexico. Phoenix has become a shadow.