Oh, the water

I love few things more than when you connect a memory so significantly to a song that each time you hear it you automatically go right back to that moment. Yesterday, I was driving to a function in Downtown Scottsdale and was fishing through my CDs in my car.

About three and a half years ago, I had taken a trip to Zihuatanejo, Mexico with my whole family. Mom, Dad, sister, sister’s then husband, me, my husband. It must have been about the third day we were there. My husband and Dad went on a fishing excursion and the rest of us decided to go out to a more secluded beach called Playa Las Gatas. You have to go downtown and hop a “water taxi,” which is basically a panga, to get there. We were the first ones on the beach and we found a nice spot at a beach restaurant and plopped our stuff down.

The owner’s name was Jorge and he had a very sweet 3 year old son. Apparently, Jorge’s restaurant partner had fallen very ill the day before and he was not able to go into town for his supplies. He needed a boat to come out and bring him things for the day. My mom, sister and brother-in-law had gone down the beach to do some shopping and I stayed back to hold down the fort. Jorge, not knowing me from Adam, asked if I could just keep an eye on his son’s whereabouts while he unloaded. I was happy to.

The boat pulled up. There was no one else around and Jorge’s son just sat on the beach near me, playing in the sand and shallow water. He knew his boundaries. The man who drove the boat had a radio on. It was playing Van Morrison’s And It Stoned Me. I just sat there in the shade, that gorgeous day, in that amazingly beautiful place with that as the only sound other than the ocean. It was perfect.

The CD I grabbed yesterday was Moondance. The second the song started I was there. I rolled down the windows despite the fact that it was scorching hot outside and turned it up as loud as I could stand it. I ended up sitting in a dirt parking lot off Scottsdale Rd. listening to the song three times, knowing I would give my right arm for that moment again. And to partially have it back brought me so much contentment.