It’s always the little things

 Por Carlo

 I took Joy to Puerto Vallarta yesterday. She needed to return to the USA to appear in a court case. As I watched her pass through airport security, into an area where we could no longer walk together, the negative feelings of separation started. Heck, I thought, I’m well passed the “you’re a big boy” stage and almost into the “old man” stage. On my way back to San Blas, I stopped and picked up Ella at Guayabitos. She wanted a ride to San Blas and I wanted some company so I worked out well for both of us. Being with Ella is always fun. She is the woman that took Joy and I on a guided tour of The Museum of Modern Art in New York city. This time she took me on a short tour of Guayabitos. The location and spirit of the town is between Puerto Vallarta and San Blas; a small resort town on the beach; more traditional Mexican than Puerto Vallarta and more tourist oriented than San Blas. I drove Ella to Bill’s hotel in town and went back home. Tired from the driving, I went straight to on of the guest beds in the front room and collapsed. Just before sleep overwhelmed me, I felt an insect on my leg. I shooed it off and tried to drift off again. Then another body part registered the antics of the insect. I shooed him off again. This little dance between the insect and me continued until, in frustration, I jumped up and turned on the light; determined to find the bugger and kill it! To my surprise it was not one insect or several insects but a number closer to that of the national debt of the USA. They were having a major fiesta on our bed (I think there was a small insect band playing the tune “La Cucaracha”, a group standing on their two hind legs swinging small sticks at a tiny piñata, and they were all drinking Pacifico beer). This was the largest grouping of flying ants I’d seen ever. How they got into the house and why they picked this bed to hold their party is still a mystery to me. While tempted to just move to another bed and deal with this in the morning, I decided to take care of the problem now. So, I turned to ask Joy where the bug spray is. Then it really struck me; she’s gone. The person I always rely on for hundreds of little things each day will not be with me. As I mentioned above, I’m passed the “big boy” stage of life, and so, I found the bug spray myself and took care of the problem. All this made me realize (again) that when someone we are close to is no longer with us, it is the little things that we miss; a word, a touch, a smile, even the tiny annoyances are a hole that can not be filled. And I wonder, how long does it take before the absence of those “little things” no longer brings on the longing to be with our loved one. I don’t know and hope to never have to find out first hand.