Phoenix is not home, but it is where we work and collect mail.
It's getting harder and harder for me to leave Mexico. Keith promises that within 3 years time I won’t have too. This trip was no different. We arrived into Puerto Vallarta as scheduled, full of joy, breathing in the humidity and the smell of aviation fuel mixed with burning garbage and grilled meats.
I shall over the course of the next several days write about some of our adventures and observations, but for now I am in mourning. A deep dark bout with grief. For a good deal of the flight back to Phoenix, my eyes leaked. People must have thought that I had either recently been a kidnapped victim or I had been quarantined for the flu. My poor husband has had to deal with this weakness in me since the first time he ever took me to Mexico. He stays close to me and just keeps handing out tissues. Comforting me as if I just burried a loved one.
I had planned on blogging while we were in Guayabitos, but I become a jealous lover of my time in Country. I did not want to share a moment away from my surroundings.
I don’t know if it is the reality of work and life as usual, stopping at Walgreen's to find everything that I want all in the right place. No unusual retail groupings, like hair color and canned tuna. All is perfect here in the United States of America. A fault I cannot overlook, but tolerate only with the anticipation of our next trip south.
1 hour ago