We have developed a pattern here at the house on the beach in Todos Santos.
Early morning is YaYa time with my grandson. My son-in-love waits to hear me making coffee in the kitchen before bringing Thurlow up so that he and my daughter can grab another hour of sleep. I don’t tell him how I anticipate this treasured time alone with Thurlow. It is Thurlow and my secret
Alone, Thurlow and I climb up to the third floor deck and watch the waves crash into the shore and then come back down and sit on the floor as he explores the world around him. We laugh and sing and clap hands and he bobs and weaves his tiny body dancing to the rhythm of his tiny world. I wonder if he can hear my heart dancing.
I feed him breakfast and eventually, the rest of the house rises and the day begins as I let go of my treasured time.
This morning, my daughters and I were going riding. It is the second ride for my youngest daughter and me since arriving on Saturday. Alexis’ first.
We rode through palm groves and then along the beach, our bodies relaxing into the steady gait of our horses as a wind blew in from the ocean and the surf crashed into the sand, washing our horse’s footprints away. It is hot and muggy. My heart is light, dancing with the pure delight of spending time with my two favourite women, my daughters, doing something I have always loved. Riding.
Above us, in the ever darkening sky, turkey vultures glided on the wind and beautiful white egrets watched our passing from their perches in the trees lining the edge of the river where it meets the sea. We pass by and they spread their wings swooping down to the water and then soaring back up into the sky. They are beautiful to watch.
And then, we left the beach and climbed up into the hills past flowering cacti, sampled sweet, sweet chilli peppers from a wild cactus bush and stopped at the high point to see if we could spot any whales. Two days ago, when we rode by this point we watched a whale slide by from above, the only sign of his passing the spray of his spout and the grey of his body sliding through the brilliant blue water. Today the water is gunmetal grey and moody. My favourite kind of sea.
We rode back down the rocky trail on the far side of the mountain, through palm groves redolent with the smells of fresh rain and bougainvillea flowers cascading to the ground. We crossed a river, our horses easily stepping through silent water up the far bank and back to the corral and through it all my heart kept dancing.
It was a day to laugh and chat and share and be. Together.
Back at the house, we showered and changed and left the men in charge of my grandson and drove into town for lunch. I almost had to stop driving at one point as the pounding of my heart drowned out my daughters’ voices and tears welled up into my eyes. I love you both so much, I told them, and they laughed and did that daughter thing of rolling their eyes and laughing before telling me how they love me too, and can we please go for lunch now? And we did after stopping at the bakery for fresh bread for the house and then a delightful ladies’ shop where I bought a new scarf (Like you really need another scarf mom they both teased) and a handbag that Alexis hopes she gets for her birthday and then we went for lunch at the rooftop sky lounge at Guaycura where the view of the red rooftops of Todos Santos tucked within lush green palms and flowering leading down to the sweeping sea made us gasp at the sheer beauty of the view.
We ordered Nachos and wine and laughed and chatted and teased as the sky above grew darker and darker until the rain began to fall in earnest and we scurried for cover by the bar, laughing with the pure pleasure of being together as the rain danced on the fabric of the roof cover, falling onto our table through the cracks between each panel. We didn’t care if we got wet. This was a day for pure delight, of hearts beating together and love flowering like the verdant forests all around.