LV and I went for a walk yesterday, into the heart of the village Ajijic. The place my Mother had made her home for the past 15 years.
The walk was laborious as the streets were made of large rock cobblestone. But the views...beautiful.
The Mexican people love color. All the houses from grand to shacks were painted in warm yellows, greens, reds and blues.
Red, orange and purple flowers crawled up and peeked over colored stucco walls while large cactus stood as prickly sentries.
It was a mix of old world and new. A Mercedes zoomed by us, as the dust settled an old man in a horse drawn cart clomped past.
We sat and had dinner at a little restaurant/bar along the shore of Lake Chapala. We sat outside on leather woven chairs and sipped our drinks at a tiny table covered with a festive Mexican table cloth.
We feasted on fresh guacamole, warm tortillas and melted cheese appetizers. Then gorged ourselves on steak strips, melted cheese and onion pieces that simmering in bubbling mexican sauce served in a large volcanic rock bowl.
For awhile the grief was pushed backwards and my mind fought hard to push through the numbness that has held it prisoner. It was a welcome respite.
We took our time and ambled slowly back to our hotel. Tired and dusty we plunked on the bed and rested our weary bodies.
I am thankful for the momentary peace. And for my wonderful LV who pushed past my fears and talked me into taking Chanda. (my beloved camera).
8 years ago