About Lovability in Mexico (Ex-Pat Part II)

Today's our last night in Mexico.  We've spent ten days here, traveling around the center of the country to visit my family and go to a friend's wedding.  We've eaten like crazy, basked in the sunshine of the amabilidad of the Mexican people.


Amabilidad is probably a concept I should explain, for those of you who don't speak Spanish.  Literally, it means "lovability", that is, the characteristic that makes someone lovable.  However, in Spanish (and especially in Mexico) it's not used that way.  To be amable is not to be lovable; it's to be kind + friendly + polite + attentiveness.  Yep, all three four rolled into one.  (Apologies.  I'm mathematically challenged.)

I vacation, you vacation...

So we're off to Mexico on vacation tomorrow.  This is our first vacation since we bought the house last year...  My poor b/f hasn't been off the island in almost two years.  If you've ever lived on an island you know how crazy that will make you.  I traveled a bit last year; true, it was for work and not really a vacation, but still.  I got off the Rock.  I kept my sanity.  But my b/f?  He's a hero for not having lapsed into nervous tics or worse.

Bluebell Books Short Story Slam -- Week 8

The Bluebell Books Short Story Slam!  Visit the home post here, and join in the fun!

This week the prompt was a photograph...  Darkish, perhaps, or perhaps that's just me projecting my darkish mind.  I was surprised how easy this story came, especially because I almost passed on participating this week -- I had no clue what to write.  Stream of consciousness may not be a bad thing after all ;)  I hope you enjoy!


Turning Back

The road back is the longest of them all.  It’s not a line; not even a circle.  It’s a meandering footpath, rocky and uphill most of the way, only downhill, mostly, when the slippery slope leads further away.  You don’t realize it, at first, when you begin slipping.  Perhaps you’re glad it’s not uphill, perhaps you feel you’re close.  But then you slide faster, you scrape your hands on muddy rocks, and you realize the darkness enveloping is — yes, it’s familiar, but it’s what you’re trying to get away from.  Your fingernails dig for purchase, dirt painfully gathering under them, but there’s no purchase, no stopping.  You just slide.


Why did you walk away?  Why did you need more, more than the sun, the clear sky?  More than the planes of fields that enclosed our world in their openness?  Why did you not feel the freedom of the wind, of the rippling prairie grass?  Did you look back, as you walked away?  I didn’t see you turn, but perhaps you did.