I saw a good little movie the other night with Carol and Canela. It’s called The New Best Marigold Hotel. Have you seen it? Most of it takes place in India at an eccentric and ramshackle tourist hotel which especially welcomes people in their third age. It’s about change and risk and not growing old.
It had some good lines in it, mostly from the young man whose dream it was to resurrect the hotel into the glorious haven it had never really been. One of my favorites was this one:
Everything always turns out right in the end, and if it’s not right, it means it’s not yet over.
I like that. It has truth in it. It resonated with us women for many reasons, as it may for you. It was made more poignant for me because we are in a time here of goodbyes.
Most of the American friends here are scattering -- for four or six or even eight months -- as people return to their northern homes for the summer, or set off on other adventures that will take them away from their San Pancho homes. It’s part of the ex-pat and the dual-country life to experience this time of sweet and sad farewells. This is a very small town, and people get close.
I’ve been a resident long enough to have been both stayer and leaver, but it’s never easy. The friends who are in our lives on a daily basis, experiencing together the highs and lows, the challenges and the magic, become part of the fabric of our days. Separation, I think, summons forth all the emotions: the care, the appreciation of shared times and shared stories, the joy of those golden moments that bloom among friends. The love of those friends.
In the car today on the way to Vallarta, Carol and I were talking about these things. She observed that the phrase “golden years” is an apt one with more meaning than we usually credit it. In these years when many of our more mundane responsibilities are over or ending, we have the freedom and opportunity to explore life more deeply.
The friendships we find in which we can share our wonderings and ponderings, in which we can discuss the myriad learnings of life, are golden treasures. She and I agreed that these inner explorations shared are perhaps the best reward of being this age. We agreed that relationships that honor growth -- past, current, and future -- are the relationships we seek and cherish when found.
Another part of separation points to continuity: some of us will see each other during this time apart, some will continue friendships through calls and emails and Facebook, some will wait until reunion to reconnect. Whichever happens, the vein of gold has been tapped, and reunion promises a true re-uniting.
It occurred to me a week or so ago that this summer is my first one in thirty years without real responsibility. So I decided to go to Italy. I’ve never been. I want to see the cypress trees and rolling hills of Tuscany. I want to learn the stark and complex island of Sicily, from which my grandparents journeyed by ship in 1901, and visit the ancient temple sites of Demeter and Aphrodite. I want to take myself as I am now to a place that is both old and new to me.
I’ll take you along, of course. My weekly or bi-weekly writing has become a joy to me over the three-plus years I’ve been at it. Storytelling is one of the things I love to do. I’ll have stories.
This is also the first year since I began Casa de Luz de Luna that I’ll be away from San Pancho for the whole summer, traveling to the Pacific Northwest for a while and then to Italy. I'll be here until June, longer than many. I’m leaving the house in good hands. I’ll miss the summer storms. I’ll miss the friends who are staying, and the ones who are not.
But it will all be right in the end, and, my guess is, even in the middle.
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