Mexico on a cold day

On a cold, cold afternoon, right in the middle of the street I was crossing, I was hit with memories of Mexico. The day was grey but in my head I saw exactly how the sun would come through the large, unobstructed windows of my Abuelita's house and warm my back as I passed each one on my way to her kitchen. I was able to recall the smells of cut papaya, mango and lime. All this from that memory box in my mind that holds only the most vivid of memories. I began to miss that Mexico I once knew and would experience year after year and took for granted. There was a time I believed it would always remain as I left it. I grew out of that.

After walking for ten minutes in fifteen degree weather, with a windchill in the single digits, the wool and flannel I was bundled in began to give up the warmth.  I was headed home and my mind went over all the things I wanted to do so my mind left Mexico. Later  that evening we ate cookies and watched this Chick Strand film.

Fake Fruit Factory. By Chick Strand. 1986.

It was done in 1986 and I remember some of the music used being played at my Abuelita's house. She will be 94 this year and while I'd love to visit her, give her a big hug and sit and talk with her never taking my eyes off her face, sadly, Mexico has become a scary place and unfortunately where she lives has become quite dangerous. The last time I saw her was in 2007 and we made every moment count. I never wanted to leave her side the entire day and I rarely did. I call her but it's not the same.

There is a frustration and an anger that will come over me if I dwell to much on the situation in Mexico. There is also fear and worry because a good piece of my heart remains there. I think of her all the time, every day.  My Abuelita didn't want to leave her country and she doesn't leave her home much, hardly ever.