Memories from the Hacienda

Sitting here tonight, bundled in a new favorite blanket, a gift of recent, I find myself feeling the splinter's point of loneliness. I've come down a little from my Mexico high and I'm feeling a bit displaced. I'm floating in that 'dream state', where it all feels a little like wonder in my eyes. Memories seem to be traveling farther and getting faint and they cross over from my daydreams, until they become the dreams of my night's deepest sleep.

I always go through this whenever I get home from somewhere distant and especially more so when I've made and left new friends. The sweet of happiness that once was, is poured over by the emotions of ache and ever wanting more. Just as Tchaikovsky's Overture trumpets and sounds in my ears as I write and ponder, my heart beats quicker and faster in the fear of being left all alone, not being able to experience this again.  Even though I know that won't happen, and hasn't happened, I sometimes spend my days in that state.

As I take today for myself and slumber it away, there's a cold blowing Montana wind outside reminding me that I'm home, and I reminisce of the mexican sun streaking through the trees in the early morning and of peacocks strutting about the cobblestone walkways, wondering of us as we of them. My days in Mexico start with chili on my eggs, coffee to warm me up and good early conversations among my fellow workshop attendees. I love this.  I absorb it all.

And now, as I sit here in my bed, typing under the midnight oil, I look over and see the card from Jose sitting on my dresser, it's simple and beautiful. There is a picture of a burro on the front, a holga image of his, and every morning when I awake, I see it there and am reminded of my adventure in Mexico and know that no matter what, I'm not really alone and that I will see my new friends again.  I thank everyone who was a part of this experience and thank you for making my life's adventure that much more precious.