Chuck that whining, self-pitying attitude down into the gorge behind the house and claim this gorgeous, sunny morning as a new beginning!
Just as the tropical depression that hovered over Guatemala and caused days of incessant rain, with a sky occluded by layers of low hanging clouds and swiftly swirling fog enveloping the house, has moved on to disappear over the Pacific ocean, so has my personal cloud lifted and my heart has lightened.
By yesterday morning, our trials and tribulations of the last few weeks had engorged themselves to a dark masse of amorphous, ever-increasing threats. Life’s hick-ups and adversities accumulated in my mind and became disproportionally magnified, thus robbing my days of enjoyment and my nights of more restful restoration.
It has always been my downfall to brood. I am, if I may say so myself, an accomplished and skilled sulker, agonizer and ruminator. It is, therefore, not in the least surprising that I took full advantage of the mountain of negative vibes lately, to immerse myself with great gusto into our misadventures – multiple hospitalizations of both Barry and my mother – and the hick-ups of daily life, like rental car troubles galore and other annoyances. The crowning glory of my misery, the icing on my cake of despair, was the curious “Incident of the Towed Car”.
In this ridiculous mishap, a friend, who was leaving Atenas for a trip, kindly allowed me to drive a car for a couple of days, which she herself had borrowed from its absentee Canadian owner. After I was done running my errands, I parked the car in front of her house. Subsequently, a chain reaction of bad karma landed a shitload of trouble at my feet.
I borrowed another car to deliver the first borrowed car’s keys to the designated person. Only it broke down on the way and I couldn’t hand over the keys. Then my back flipping out, confining me to bedrest. Meanwhile, the town of Atenas deciding to resurface my friends street and TOWING ALL CARS LEFT PARKED IN IT. I had to pay $500 so my friend could get the confiscated license plates back. She blamed me for the mess, and as I did park the vehicle, I had no convincing argument to volley that whopping bill back into her side of the court!
Interestingly enough, it’s another car, which helped me to regain perspective on my very good life. It’s our own family car, Ruby, which we picked up from the importer yesterday.
No more broken down and unsafe rental cars, no more borrowing cars from generous and kind neighbors! No more will-I-have-a-ride-to-go-to-the-hospital-tomorrow anxieties! Somehow, the simple act of driving to a warehouse in Alajuela to pick up our car, cleared the grey cobwebs obscuring my vision and restored my equilibrium. And there is no doubt that our lives are very good indeed. Barry is mending nicely, my mother has moved back into her own bed and is doing quite well, and beautiful kites are soaring above the valley.
Besides, if all else fails, there’s always Italian pastry – Pura Vida!
NOT IN A STRAIGHT LINE by Photolera Claudinha 