Escape to Mexico

This is the way a day should begin—at least a day in Mexico. Four violins, two trumpets, two guitars and eight mustached mariachi musicians in black silver studded suits, crisp white shirts, and shiny white patent leather shoes, play and sing for the puffed up patrons stuffing their faces from the obscenely sumptuous breakfast buffet at the luxurious ostentatious all-inclusive resort hotel. It’s the week before Christmas. Richard, my husband, and I arrived late yesterday afternoon and stumbled through the evening—exhausted. We had taught up until the last moment (Richard teaches Tai Chi and Chi Kung). We both leave it all on the floor each time—like we may never see these students again and must impart one last bit of wisdom.
Even now, I just passed Richard on my way through the lobby. He was writing—no doubt a teaching story that will tell the reader something that will help her through the day and bring a little light into the world.
“Ei yi yi yi,” the musicians sing. Boy do we need a rest.