I’m leaving now, sitting on the plane waiting for takeoff, thinking about it all, reality seeming a far way off as I look out the window and see the sunshine. Oh, sunshine. That’s how she addressed me, that’s what she called me. So what’s going on with you, sunshine, she would say, asking me in the most gentle way, her voice so calming and welcoming. Sounds like forever, I thought, but a few days will have to do. If we only had the choice to stay, if only it was a more reasonable thought to live your life based on the moment, what a pleasure that would be. But we move on, back to wherever we keep our things, those things that mean so much to us, that define us. I laugh at myself. Who else would smile at the thought of throwing it all away, of sitting on the beach until we are thirsty or hungry and going from there. There is a man down the beach who sells coconuts, and the coconut water would mix well with the tequila. We could make an awfully nice drink out of that. Oh, but we’ve been there, I suppose, I know what that would feel like. When he brought it over to us with the two straws, I can still remember that smile, that slight blush growing on your cheek bones. You certainly have the skin for that, the red comes through all right. What was it that you said when you saw it? Me encanto? Sure, your Spanish needs work, but I like the effort. Me gusta mucho. Pero por qué? Was it only the drink? Was that what did it for you? Not the breeze or the sand or the conversation? Maybe those things are better left in Mexico. I tell myself, don’t take it with you, but that’s no way to live, that’s no way to approach it all. Seeing that on paper is truly odd. It. Boy, talk about a matter of perspective. And that’s the funny thing, because I often make something of nothing. But it wasn’t nothing, and on the balcony you said something like that, something about the energy of the place. Bundle up, dear, it’s cold where you’re going. Luckily, there’s a lot of sunshine in California.