We step onto a flat-bottomed river boat. Our feet sunburned from the days before. Our heads full of Mexican heat. Our bodies overdosing on Vitamin D. And we ride up the tree-lined river. The boat gently pulsing against the soft current. Farther we go and the sun sinks behind the trees.
We rest in swimsuits. Sitting in plastic chairs with cold Coronas in our hands in the middle of the river. The sand is so close to the surface that we wade in water only to our knees. And there we sit. Water lapping our ankles, our legs, our thighs. Stretching our toes into the sandy bottom and watching the sun set behind those trees.
We talk of life and love and miscommunications. Of what we want and what we don’t. And we have understandings; spoken and unspoken. This moment of beauty one finds so rarely between friends. And we know we are lucky. We are lucky to have a kindred soul to share in the moment with.
It is dark now and we make our way back to that sand-bar separating ocean from lagoon and river. We sit on the beach and feast on fresh fish and shrimp and cold beer. Ants bite my legs, but I don’t mind. Many an ant has bit me before and I hardly minded then, either.
And in this, the last night at Pie de la Cuesta, we watch the sun in it’s final sigh before sleep. No longer marred by river-trees. And then it is done.