I slept from 10pm last night until 9am this morning. Meaning? This weekend knocked me out. Too much beauty in nature and relationships for my little body to handle. I was awoken by Doña Juana knocking on my door,
“Luz! You awake?”
“Half dead, mamai.”
Laughter from more than Doña Juana resounds from the other side of my thin, wooden door. In my pjs I roll out of my sleeping bag and there is a small party on the patio. Doña Juana stands on the other side of my door with a huge smile, and the last piece of last night’s cake. Passed out is the only appropriate turn of phrase to what happened last night to me just before the cake was cut. Completely exhausted and retiring early, I had never received a slice. Filled with warmth and love from her smile I slipped on my moccasins and took my place with this, the second round, of friends and family. They offered more gazillion proof alcohol and I offered to make tea for everyone.
The friends that had come by this morning were that of the same school grade of Don Juan. Friends from early childhood, they sat and told stories in half Spanish half Quechua laughing and crying. As we passed around the four tea cups between us I could not have been more content. With a goofy smile on my face I responded, “Ustedes” when my host dad asked me in quechua, “Who are the best parents in Madrigal?”
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