Child,
You are freshly returned from your first international travels. You flew in cramped jet liners, rode in rattling buses and motored around in a sturdy water taxi. Did you feel the movement? Does that movement run in your blood like it runs in ours?
In books we read that you can hear sounds, though I'm sure they are muffled by the internal symphony of the big, beautiful belly where you grow. So then, did you hear the rumbling buses of Guadalajara or the strange, over-amplified dance music that announced the arrival of the propane truck? Did you hear your mom haggle over prices in the bustling street markets or hear me roar with approval as Liverpool won the Champion's League on penalties? Did you hear the waves crashing on the beaches of Melaque or the brass band floating by on the lagoon of Barra de Navidad? Did the birds wake you too? How about the termites, did you hear them at night, chew chew chewing their way through the hotel? Did you hear our voices soften and unwind, lulled by the motion and sweet wonder of it all? Did you hear us talk about raising you in Mexico, immersed in color and language, under the sun and near the sea? Did you hear us loving life, wanting to share it all with you?
They say you can taste things now and that these flavors will be your favorites. There's a risk then that you will only want to eat scrambled eggs and chicken, chicken and chicken. More likely though, you'll love guacamole with chips, sea salt and lime. Did you taste the orange juice, sweet and nourishing like the sun? Or how about fresh lemon popsicles, our best defense against the sun on blistering market days? We think that you love papaya. You wiggled a lot at night when we would sit outside in the cool air, talking and eating fresh papaya, mangos and bananas. Perfect papaya tastes like coffee ice cream, a flavor I hope you remember always.
Books say that you can see now too, but only bright lights beaming in on your red world. I can imagine no light more bright than the Mexican sun. I wonder if you felt the same damp dread we did, coming home to Portland's grey-green, rain-soaked spring.
In your red world, you missed the amazing colors of Mexico: the blue-greens of the sea, the dazzling blue iridescent fish that flickered in the shallows, the vivid woven fabrics and painted animal figures for sale in the markets. I took as many pictures as I possibly could, trying to preserve the colors, to distill their essence, to dive into them through my camera lens. I hope that someday we will wander through the photo albums together, mesmerized by the color and wonder.
I will remember this for you.
pa-