Because my leg wasn't exactly up for a horseback riding/hot springs excursions or surf lessons, we took the last few days of his visit easy.
 |
| The actual puncture wound is healing up okay -- in spite of the hilarious stitch job. It's the fact that a good portion of my knee is still numb and that the bruise just keeps getting bigger and darker that's causing me a moderate amount of concern. |
Like cappuccinos.
"Orange Cat," I mused over an exceptionally delicious cappuccino. "How is my life so good?"
"Because you appreciate everything and complain about nothing, Blue Cat."
And because this cappuccino is so good...
Together, we appreciated ocean breezes.
Beaches with rumbling, tumbling waves.
Hot chocolate and frozen yogurt and fried plantains with guacamole.
(there are no pictures for these because Orange Cat eats them too quickly)
Glorious sunset after glorious sunset.
There's so much to appreciate.
I took my Orange Cat to the airport at 2:45 on Wednesday afternoon.
I waited in line with him.
Hugged my mačka goodbye.
"See you next February in Colorado, Orange Cat."
"Yes. And I'll Skype you when I get to Slovenia."
"Please do."
I felt heavy when I left the airport.
I'm finally alone. Well... I mean, I have Ella and Brendon living next door and Boy who talks with me once or twice a day. But... I have no commitments to anyone except myself for the next two weeks. Loads of time to think, breathe, reconnect. This is something I've been desperately needing... but...
*sigh*
I'm gonna miss my cat.
The walk back to Puerto Escondido was demoralizing for me. My leg throbbed in pain. Shooting pain. Stabbing pain. Dull, aching pain.
The side of the road was virtually nonexistent at points and each jam-packed colectivo went whizzing past, not stopping for the limping gringo on the nonexistent roadside.
Am I gonna have to walk all the way back to Puerto Escondido?
I stopped at a pullover point, leaned my weight into my left leg and blinked furiously to ward off the stinging sensation building behind my eyes.
God, I feel pathetic.
The heat, the pain, the sudden onset of loneliness and the panic at the thought of having to walk all the way to Puerto Escondido nearly reduced me to a puddle of sobbing vagabond.
Where the fuck are my peanuts?
About forty minutes into my walk/wait, a colectivo pulled over.
These are the moments I feel...weak, I stared blankly out the window as the small, maroon car sped towards town, doing its best to avoid the ever-present Mexican speed bumps. Like a lost child. Christ. Orange Cat has only been gone for an hour and I'm already a disaster.
Aimee... you're allowed to cry. You're allowed to be a disaster. It's okay. Everyone has their disaster days.
I didn't watch the sunset that night.
I went to my room.
Closed the door.
And sat.
Alone.
Alone with a cup of tea
in my blue tin cup,
fan whirring overhead.
Alone with a cup of tea
in my blue tin cup,
fan whirring overhead
and
thoughts tumbling through my brain.
What a mind-boggling, stunning, totally unexpected two weeks.
Orange Cat's visit left me incredibly grateful and just as much bewildered.
I mean.
Imagine.
Someone you spent two or three days with five or six months ago --
shared stories,
ideas,
wine, chocolate and view of a capital city from a castle garden
and then parted ways.
You talked briefly over Skype every now and then --
-- but that's it.
Orange Cat quickly read every blog post I've ever written
(which is, umm, a LOT)
and decided that my life was one he wanted to support.
That I was someone whose life
he simply wanted
to be a happy one.
And Orange Cat is someone who... umm... says it like it is.
"Can you see those stars, Andrej?" Ella asked while we were in the mountains.
"Well, I'm not blind," my mačka said, matter-of-factly.
"Cat, do you like this sweater?" I tried on a Mexican poncho thing -- a kind of thing I've always wanted.
"Maybe gain 20 kilos first," my mačka suggested, matter-of-factly.
And when my mačka talks to me about me, he says, matter-of-factly --
"Blue Cat, you're special. And you know I want you to be happy. And you know if you ever need anything, you can ask me."
And I believe him,
'cos my mačka says it like it is.
Before he boarded his plane for Slovenia, we made a plan.
(Surprise, Boy!)
Every year, my mačka will spend 16 days with me. Be it on the beaches of Mexico, in the mountains of Colorado or in the cities of Thailand.
'Cos this bewildering, beautiful friendship is something worth treasuring.
"We're going to be friends for a long time, Cat."
"A long time."
And 'cos my my mačka says it like it is,
I believe him.
I stayed in bed all day Thursday, venturing out only to fry some plantains in coconut oil and to watch the sunset.
My leg was stiff.
My movement was slow.
I mean, even hardcore Mexicans overtook me. Easily.
Whoa.
Well.
What do I notice when I'm moving slowly? Other than the backsides of all the people "rushing" past me, that is.
I journaled as the gigantic sun slowly set.
About plans.
About how to properly budget my funds to survive (and thrive) until I fly into Denver.
But mostly, I just thought about my cat.
Dear Orange Cat,
I miss you already.
People like you
are pretty damn rare.
Thanks for making me feel so special
and for sharing Mexico with me
for 16 days.
Hugs from Puerto Escondido,
-Blue Cat
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