California, Here We come

It’s a daily ritual.  While I wait for coffee to brew, I check my calendar and slash through the box that was yesterday.  Now, there are only a few dates remaining until we reach the square where I’ve written, “Leave for El Norte”.

I wrote those words months ago without any particular emotion.  But this morning, when I realized how fast the date was approaching, dread came and sat squarely on my shoulders.  It will be hard to leave La Paz.

There are a dozen things we need to do:  Pre-pay utility bills.  Arrange to have our plants watered and the sidewalk swept.  Take down paintings and mirrors to protect them from condensation caused by heavy rain.  Empty the fountain.  Ask friends to drive us to the airport.  So many details.  But none are the cause of my distress.

I’m anxious because there are so many things I’ll miss and want to do before we leave La Paz.   

·        I’ll miss fish tacos and arrachera at Rancho Viejo.

·        And being part of the Sunday evening Malecon Mixmaster composed of bikers, skateboarders, rollerbladers, strollers and out-of-control battery powered cars driven by two-year-olds.  

·        I want to watch the sun light up the bay early on a Sunday morning when the Malecon is free of traffic.

·        I want to play Rummiqub with Ginger and Mercedes.  And just once, I’d like to win.

·        I’d like to finish and return the novel Caramelo. 

·        I’ll miss suggestions from the Sea of Cortez Writers’ group.  And their patience.

·        I’d love to write a perfect first draft. 

·        Lose four pounds so I can fit into my swimsuit. 

·        Master the subjunctive tense in Spanish.

·        Learn to paint like Ulla.

Okay, maybe the last four are a bit unrealistic but emotions and realism rarely co-exist.

The reality is that Alex and I have been lucky.  We take care of large beautiful homes in the States but, nevertheless; I’ll miss our small house with its plant-filled patios.  I’ll miss dark-eyed Mexican children but will settle for blond, blue- eyed substitutes. I’ll miss the roosters but not the barking dogs.  The music but not the all-night parties.  The 85-degree water temperature but not the humid 105-degree afternoons.  I’ll crave fish tacos but will savor Thai and Indian food.

There are things I am looking forward to.  Libraries.  Foreign films with English subtitles.  Trader Joes.  And, on Sunday mornings, Alex will buy three fat newspapers – in English, and then he’ll drive to a donut shop and bring home an old-fashioned donut for me and a huge apple fritter for himself.  We’ll sit on the balcony, read to each other, drink coffee, and eat donuts.  I know that even if I manage to drop four pounds before we leave La Paz, I’ll gain them back in El Norte.

But at least I won’t be friendless because some of our La Paz pals have homes in California and Oregon.  We’ll visit.  And create memories.  And I’ll look for odd or amusing experiences to write about for the Baja Citizen; it will help connect me to La Paz.

And, each morning while we’re in the States, as I wait for coffee to brew, I’ll mark a slash through the day that was yesterday.  And one day, there will be just a few dates unmarked until we reach the square where I’ve written, “Return to La Paz”.  And I’ll recognize the tickle in my tummy means that soon I’ll be coming home.