this is my life

Date April 26, 2009

Two friends and I spent the weekend down the mountain where the sun shines without fail.  We layed underneath it and let our skin turn pink as we drank juice and listened to music from the finca next door.

Late this afternoon as we pulled back into Manizales and the familiar cloudy sky, Celeste said, “This is one of those weekends when you look around and realize that this is really your life.”

I laughed at her childlike honesty and felt exactly the same way.

This is my life.

Crowded Jeep terminals packed with people selling things and yelling things and shuffling hurriedly about.  A gallery full of plantain wagons and pallets of produce brought in from nearby farms.  A drive down a crooked mountain highway where coffee plants are the shoulders of the road.  Ten Colombians and three gringas crammed into a rundown vehicle sweating and fighting off nausea.

Buying fresh fruit from the roadside vendor that doesn’t up his price when he sees my eyes and hair– at least not after I called him on it the first time he tried his she-doesn’t-speak-Spanish scam.  Lying on the grass of a finca that isn’t ours wondering why it feels like home.

Yes, this is my life and not a soul from Mississippi would believe it.

2 Responses to “this is my life”

  1. Lou said:

    We believe it because you take us there all the time. Thanks for the trip.

  2. Stephen said:

    What else would we expect from you? A normal life? Certainly not. 🙂 Looking forward to late July. And early OCTOBER!