I can't seem to shake the worry off. I want to see the bright side of moving in with my family for a short time, but I only seem to fixate on the negative. It is harder to be calm these days. My third trimester began a couple of days ago and the reality that in a couple of months I will be a mother is starting to sink in. I have been packing my belongings without much enthusiasm, even though I have Matt, the greatest husband in the universe, riding the waves of my foul moods with me and cheering me on.
We packed up the candles and candlesticks yesterday. All of them. Nearly two full boxes! We don't even usually light them all, but now the house feels darker. Amidst the candles and vases and little chachkas, drawers of batteries and old take-out menus, Matt came across a notebook i bought on my first trip with him two years ago. The spiral notebook with green pears on the front came from the school supplies section of a Mexican Wal Mart. I had this idea that I'd let the beach and travel inspire some writing. In fact, only a couple of pages were used. No matter, I like to think it is because I had so much fun I didn't feel like writing.
There is one piece I wrote, though, that I am very glad to have found. Rereading it is helping me cope with the mixed bag of feelings I have over moving. Which, by the way, is happening on Thursday. It's called One Long Right Now and it was written on a beautiful beach in Sayulita.
One Long Right Now
Sitting with the grit of sand and salt
Feels like the right kind of dirty.
I love the way sand and little pieces of beach get caught in my hair
And no matter how many times I shampoo, it is always under
My nails when I scratch my head.
I am almost jealous of the little ant
Crawling across the terrycloth jungle of my towel.
It gets to live here.
After a week of soaking up every ray of sun, I am content
To sit in the shade eating a piece of sweet grapefruit,
Crunchy and peppered with sand dust.
All food should be beachy - it makes your teeth clean.
"Hammocks, braids, henna tattoo, Nestle ice cream, silver almost free,
Necklace amigo, Camarones, parrea lady very cheap, sunglasses..."
The vendors ripple accross the sand.
"No gracias, no gracias, no gracias, no gracias,"
The refrain stops being words and becomes an automatic mantra,
Just syllables jumbled together. "Pipes, puppets, parasailing..."
The hissing of wind, splooshing waves, a little kid getting covered in sand.
Yes I could stay here now.
Here now stretching out forever.
One long right now.