Lila and I just walked home in the dark sweet semi-silence of the sleepy village. Roosters and dogs are calling out to each other and I love knowing that this quiet is in stark contrast with the busyness of the day and days to come as Mexico prepares for the huge enthusiasm of Semana Santa.
We have spent the night a block away, at my sister's, cocooned in the comfort and feat of artisanal craftsmanship of the house she is renting for the week.
Hand-cut and hand-painted tiles, windows and furniture carved of parota wood, cross breezes, and warm hues make this home a scrumptious place to be. And it turns out, to sleep.
Because ... the bed.
Oh, the bed.
And the pillows.
And the sheets.
I had forgotten how dreamy a bed can be, how more than a safe and dry place to sleep a bed can be.
In a way, I had forgotten how much - as much as I love my little cabin - I have been "making do" in the past year and half.
When I first moved in here, I bought a new mattress and mattress cover. I painted the bathroom floor and advocated for hot water. Eventually, I added some rugs and painted shelves a bright shiny turquoise. I colored the lights bulbs yellow and hung pineapples on homemade macrame swings. I made it a home and as such, it has housed many meals, laughter, some tears, several hearts, music, talks, and much love. When Tiji moved in with us, it upped the whole belonging thing several notches.
And, it is still a little bit like camping.
So this contrast has been a blessing as we get to the more detailed part of building the house. So have been my sister's gentle and consistent reminders to not skimp on the Comfort, the Beauty.
To illustrate her point, she and I walked out of a store yesterday, carrying the most enchanting, happy-making hand-painted sink for my bathroom. She bought it for me and I got transported back to an outdoor market, almost ten years ago:
It was my first extended time in Mexico and my cells were ravenous for its Essence, as thought they had called out to them for years and were finally getting an answer. I was high on the colors, the textures, the sounds, the possibilities. I was already heartbroken at the idea of leaving. Seeing a row of the colorful, almost singing bathroom sinks, I turned to my friend and told her: "One day, I am going to have a house to put around one of these sinks."
It took a while, but here it is. Here we are.
So yes, Comfort and Beauty. No skimping. Got it.