As soon as my son returned from a few days backpacking and tenting in the desert in October, we were off again in November for a weekend in Mexico. There, I got sick for days, my madrina almost choked at a taco stand, my middle son got a nosebleed, my daughter got stung by a cactus, and my mother’s face became puffy from a mite infestation, all during the trip. It’s been an eventful month. The air in California recently has been brutal considering the Woolsey firestorms that misplaced so many. I find myself grateful for much, and even for that which seems hopeless in life, there is room for thankfulness. Being ill is humbling. Being out of the country, albeit for a few days, was a lesson more valuable than what a book can teach.
How my son continues to show us life is in the balance
For over a month, my eldest son has been away for the summer, about 300 miles from home. I leave tomorrow to pick him up from his Abuelitos’ house, making the trek up the grapevine through I-5, passing patches of cow farms and orchards, the fumes of manure creeping into the car vents each time.
When I was a young girl, I had a reputation in my family of searching feverishly for something that I would have lost. I’d be in my room, rummaging through drawers, boxes, top shelf containers, all in search of something that I needed to have. I would be successful in my search at times, but on those occasions of defeat, I’d get myself to sleep with a final pressing question on my mind: where on earth did I put that thing?