More Mochis

It is because my Abuelita will be turning 96 on March 18th that my thoughts at the moment are in Los Mochis and her house. My Abuelito passed away several years ago but I often dream of him. I feel fortunate to still have my Abuelita around. I feel her, though miles and worlds away, she is never far from my daily thoughts.

Sort of surfing...

This evening I was listening to Desi Arnaz. His velvety smooth voice was transporting me to a breezy, dimly lit, veranda under a bright moon by an ocean in some other era.  I had been to that place before, once, a little over a decade ago when I had my first massage. There were the sounds of waves and a scented oil that hinted at verbena and sandalwood with a touch of cinnamon basil. There is something about those combined scents.

I found myself immediately in Mexico, Los Mochis. There, under moonlight, tropical flowers bloom and heavily scent the humid nights. Walking down the sidewalks around 9pm you catch the sounds of music, people talking, laughing, arguing, hear the televisions blaring. These loud, social noises danced through open doors and jumped out from windows (that had no screens) and made you present. My Abuelita would often comment when she visited us here in Texas how empty and silent the streets were at 5pm when the sun was still out or at 9pm when the sun had gone down. The silence bothered her.

I am easily transported when a song or scent manages to make me swoon. There are sounds too. The upward whooooosh and downward capuuuuush then quick shhhhhhh of waves is something that touches me deeply. It is a sound that my Abuelito was able to capture when he painted seascapes. Not all paintings of the ocean will emit those sounds. I carry a memory of Los Mochis that will perfume the air around me with the scent of verbena whenever I wish it too. I can't stop writing about this.

Where does Desi Arnaz send you? Here is his songs Made for Each Other (Tu Felicidad) and Quizas, Quizas, Quizas.


"Winter's in labor and soon will give birth to the spring..."
Angeline by Mickey Newbury

I awoke before daybreak one morning last week and went outside. I caught the scent of spring, it is on it's way.

Last night we visited a garden center and I had to stop at the roses, smell the Meyer lemon blooms and the English lavender. I took a  piece of each of these and put them in the pocket of my purse that still held a piece of very dry but still wonderfully aromatic piece of a pine tree from early December.