Walking on the beach here, listening to music is like a sacrament, it was so cleansing, like keeping a promise to myself. I need to get back in touch with that ritual. I listened to the music of my Golden Age, 2003 to 2009. The songs from those years (including my mission years which were spent in a feverish addictive longing for "apostate" music) still speak truth to me and carve out memories with every note. The song I love most now is "Eet" and I love humming it as I'm wandering around here, "You can't believe it..." that loss, that freedom. The walk, though! Gave me so much clarity, I stayed even longer than I needed to because it felt so good. It helped me feel at home again in my body for a few minutes, reset my careful and worried mind. I walked past the body of a twisted pelican with white eyes, as I stepped closer, the eyes changed to red and it suddenly reared up, gawky neck height, stiffening, immobile. It must have been injured somehow because it couldn't fly away. I felt disrespectful for intruding on its pain and I whispered that I was sorry. When I came back, I told Chai about the bird and he retold the story "The celican had white eyes, and then, all of a sudden, they were red!" He asked to go see the dead celican over and over again until Lolo finally took him. He has been reminding me so much of myself on this trip. His imagination, his storytelling, his magical voice, his indefatigable energy, his innocent expectation that everyone loves him ("Hey, it's me, Chai! I'm here!") and everyone here does. Natalie and I are the only ones of our generation who brought children and watching all the younger cousins I don't know very well play with Chai has given me such a soft heart for them. They chase him and play hide and seek and monster and pass him around at the pool and catch him when he jumps off the wall. He and Sparrow are both so beloved and people coo and aww at them everywhere they go. It's very affirming to be able to share this sweet piece of my life with my relatives, who I really do love, but who I feel must be disapproving of me.
Last night my mother and grandmother were in charge of dinner and it was a Mexican feast as in days of yore. It felt so good to be there with the blue and peach streaked sky, everyone merry in their family t-shirts eating rio and enchies. Sparrow and I wore our rainbow dresses and everyone loved them. I love my little girl! This vacation has made me recognize how obsessed I am with my little family. I love spending so many hours with them, love how happy the sea and sky make them, love how Sparrow falls asleep in the waves and in the pool, love how Chai runs around so fearless and delighted. I have fallen asleep during every movie we've watched here, and last night when Jon finally urged me to go to bed during Memento, I climbed in next to Sparrow and saw her gorgeous face on the pillow, and I felt overwhelmed with love for her. I kept kissing her sleeping forehead and whispering, "My little girl, my little daughter, I love you so much." She is so dear. Jon and I took the traditional sunset kissing picture today. It's our third Mexico together. He wore his best backwards hat in homage to 8th grade eroticism. He doesn't connect with pining music like I do but he is my best Jonny and I am so glad we are together because he argues with my mother about moral relativism and kisses me so sweetly on the forehead. I feel so connected to him, lately. Like Chai says "Remember when you were a baby and daddy was too and Sparrow was taller than me?"
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