back to base camp

There’s no place like home.

So said Dorothy Gale.  Of course, her trip was a bit longer than mine.

I have no idea whether the aphorism is true or not.  For the past six years, I have not really had one.  A home, that is.  Or what one would conventionally call a home.

I have rented in Villa Obregón for all of those years.  But it doesn’t feel like home.  It is a place where I come to rest my wings. 

Maybe it is a nest.  Or just a perch.

Whatever it is, I am back at the beach for a few weeks until I head back to Mexico City to start another journey.  And Alex and Lupe are back at their home.

I asked Lupe to pose for another photograph.  This time with her customary smile.  It is a better representation of who she really is -- rather than yesterday’s shot.

Being in Mexico City for the past ten days has had an interesting affect on me.  (Partly due, I suspect, to Kim, Gary Denness, and Christine Potters lobbying me to join them in the Mexican Oz.)  And I find it hard to believe I am even considering the idea.

But there is plenty of time to further erode my concept of home.

As I was writing this post, the airplane was on its final approach to the Manzanillo airport.  The view outside my window was something I could never find in The Big City.  Crisply-outlined mountains.  Clear blue sky.  Lagoons.  Grassland.  And that great big body of water off to port side.

Dinner with friends on the beach capped it off.  Thousands of Mexican visitors are headed our way to enjoy our little village.  The next two weeks will be one of my favorite times to live in Mexico.

Whether or not I have a home here.