The Last Day of My 50’s.. Two Ducks, I Miss My Mom, and More Self Discoveries

I slept fitfully. Not because there’s anything troubling my mind but because my sunburned midriff hurts like hell! As a tummy sleeper it’s a problem! So I tossed and turned…. finally finding a comfortable position before dawn broke. It was at the same time the birds began to serenade me… vengefully I swore to have an omelette for breakfast. 

And this is how the last day of my 50’s began. I smiled because if these are my problems, I truly have none. I thought back on my night and smiled. Twice so far this holiday,  I’ve flirted back, a novelty for me. I wondered why this had happened and realized that part of my exhale has opened me up to being receptive to attention. 

I’ve held the belief that I’m unlovable in the romantic sense. I use many excuses - I’m too quirky, too free spirited, too curvy/chunky! These things are true however instead of me being unlovable because of them they will make me lovable with the right person. It’s not about changing. It’s about not using them as a defence. If I move throughout the world confidently, the pieces of my personality and my physicality that make me who I am I will attract attention. And if I’m open to that attention I can have fun. My interactions were not romantic. But they were fun. And the first step in romance is to be open to having fun. I can’t be loved if I’m not even open to first steps. I also can’t be loved if I don’t love myself. 

Of course I know all of this. But knowing it and accepting it are two different things. I’m not sure why I’m accepting of it so quickly now - my feet have barely landed in the sand. Maybe this exhale is about the fact that I’m so damn done with everything that hasn’t worked. Is not working. Perhaps the fact that I’m alone and far from home means that the only person I have to be accountable right here, right now is me. Maybe this is about more than I thought it was, more than the exhale. The pause.  That realization both scares me and fills me with hope. 

My duck and I have breakfast. I have the omelette. Fuck you noisy birds - I hope this was your cousin. I learn to make one of my favorite Mexican dishes - chilaquiles- by watching a handsome young man. He notices me and engages me in conversation, giving me a “master class” (salsa verde or salsa rojo, chips, crèma ,cheese, onions all layered). We exchange smiles and wish each other a beautiful day. I  sip on a grapefruit mimosa and coffee, eat the fresh fruit and pain Au chocolate. 

Tummy full it’s time to make my way to the beach. Along the way I see the beautiful young lady who gifted me my duck and arranged for my exceptional meal last night. We embrace, repeatedly, as I express my gratitude for her kindness. I have a hard time accepting “just because” kindness. I try to give it often but I feel obligated by it as a recipient. I realize that needs to change. If I expect others to accept mine I need to be open to accepting theirs. 

And now I’m beachside for the day. I love the change in tourists this off season brings- the majority are Mexican. Spanish flows soft, low and beautiful unlike the harsh, loud sounds of the sharp English notes. Conversations swirl along the beach, voices drifting in and out. I recognize words but my Spanish is far too rusty to comprehend sentences. Maybe it’s time to refresh. Why not? I begin a google search for Spanish immersion home-stays in Mexico.

Through hooded eyes I watch a woman about my age rise from her lounger and hold out her hand to an elderly woman- her Mother perhaps? These beautiful women, a generation apart, hold hands as they walk slowly to the ocean. A breeze ruffles their dark hair as they take repeated selfies. Their smiles are similar - not shy but confident with who they are and where they are in the moment. Their repeated glances of love at each other make me smile wistfully. 

Seeing them makes me miss my Mom. In fact, if there was one person I could have with me right now, living or dead, it would be my Mom. My very first time in Mexico was with my Mom. Mazatlan. An all inclusive in the 80’s before all inclusives were popular. We made so many memories that trip! I parasailed! My Mom (who’s afraid of heights) prayed on the beach. We bartered for goods on the beach, at wonderful food, had a little too much fun…

Her eyesight is failing now, though, and she’s not confident to travel. But I would give anything - anything- to have her here with me. I’d hold her hand and walk her through the hot, golden sand towards the ocean. We’d giggle over margaritas. We’d laugh with joy and wonder at how this beautiful woman, this woman who I pine to be half the woman she is,  has created me, a woman about to celebrate her 60th spin around the sun. Instead I text her daily. I send her pictures as both proof of life in the literal sense and in spirit. I am alive. I know this because my midriff hurts. But I’m truly alive because for the first time I’m opening myself up to claiming my future plans now. I want my somedays to be my today’s. I’m excited about my future. I’m excited that I have one at 60. 

My day is easy. Calm. Because my skin is browning the beach vendors leave me alone, aware that I’m not interested in buying but in being left in solitude. I’m at peace napping and accepting. Truthfully, had I known this trip was a watershed moment I would’ve been scared. I may not have come. But I’m here and it is. And because realizations and moments are happening in a softer manner I’m open to them. Je ne sais quois… whatever is happening is meant to happen and i am meant to embrace this. 

It is late afternoon and despite my best efforts (ok, my mediocre efforts) my skin is red. Tomorrow will have to be a day off. Not a bad plan. As I leave the beach my new friend - the duck gifter- calls to me to ask about my day. I tell her that sadly, my duck got drunk. He fell into my tamarind margarita.  We shake our heads,  commiserate and agree that maybe the duck needs a better chaperone than me. And - ta da! She produces a second duck! Suddenly, I’ve become a responsible adult for two ducks! It really is too much! But they seem to take to each other (ducks in the water?- you knew I was going to go there) and so I solemnly swear to be their duck parent. Really though, why wouldn’t I?

My kids and I come back to the room. I’d like to sit on my balcony and sip a beverage but the heat of the afternoon sun is hitting it hard and I cannot afford to turn the next shade of red. So I sit inside. I lecture my ducks. Shower. And put on the damn dress sans the security tag. I look stunning. I truly do. I drape a beautiful Moroccan scarf around my shoulders and walk, confidently to the elevator, descend to the lobby and enter the Asian restaurant.  I sit at a table worthy of a queen…. And realize I left the damn ducks in the room! They are supposed to be my “table for two now three”… fuck a duck…

The meal was excellent, the service impeccable. After my meal is done I grab a hibiscus margarita and head to the beach. It’s a dark, warm night and because the light is limited and I’m alone I make sure to sit on a lounger inside the resort line. As I settle in, I look over and see a display - neon lights proclaiming MARRY ME- and a couple knelt down in front of it. I love love. There are so many ways that new beginnings happen and this is proof of yet another. The happy couple walks past me and I congratulate them and wish them a happily ever after. We all yearn for happily ever after in the ways that matter most to each of us. 

Not long after the couple leave a young security guard approaches my lounger. I saw him earlier in the day, protecting the peacock that wanders the grounds at will. After an exchange of pleasantries, this kid opens up and talks about life through his eyes. He’s 20 years old, studying architecture. His baby face and earnest eyes tell me that although he professes to have much knowledge about life, he has lots of things yet to learn. He’s asks why I’m here and I tell him for my birthday. He boldly asks my age and, when I tell him, tells me that’s not correct. Great, I’m getting carded by a kid. But after he accepted I know how old I’m turning, we chatted. And the kids perspective on life taught me some things. He loves his Mom with his whole being. And he loves his Grandma for making his Mom. I’ve never heard anyone express it quite that way before. We talked about being normal and what normal is. And after we talked for 45 minutes he walked me up to the pool area and thanked me for spending time with him. Our conversation was engaging and refreshing. Someone else I was meant to meet. 

I’m settled into my room as the night closes on my last day of my 50’s. It does not go unnoticed by me that a decade ago I was in Playa del Carmen with MFH bidding farewell to my 40’s. Ten years later my life has shifted dramatically. Experiences I never imagined having. Growing and learning like never before. I have a feeling another shift is on the horizon, Beautiful Girl - you can and will do hard things but oh! The fun you’ll have doing them!