On a purely solitary note, the best this year was the ocean, which was absolutely delightful and enticing. We got in every day, despite the occasional appearance of Medusas and other dangerous sea creatures.
On a more interpersonal note, the best was seeing Minga’s family close ranks and come together after her death. My sister of the heart would be proud.
Runner-up bests, in no particular order: Gloria’s cooking. Getting word that the frightening news about Gabrielito’s heart was in error, and that he is likely fine. Seeing Luisito in university and Miley headed there, likely to surmount the poverty into which they were born. Exploring more of Panama City than we usually do. Continuing our streak of ten years with no injuries or significant illness, even as Tia Sally goes out alone in the pitch dark around 5am to run while avoiding the heat. The family gathering on the first Sunday we were there, which was Minga’s deepest wish — that her family continue to gather and celebrate. Sun and 90 degrees every day. Sunrise and sunset, every day. Gin and tonic at the hotel bar. Three weeks of uninterrupted camaraderie with my dear friend Sally.
The worst: only one really. The Bone Collector thing, which freaks me right out. Actually they’ve always done that — scooped up whatever remains after three years or so and put it all in a small box somewhere else in the cemetery, to save space and make room for the next dearly deceased. I remember that from the Peace Corps days, when people were merely wrapped and didn’t even have caskets. A deceased got a three year ride in an official grave, and then had to make way. Freaked out though I was, I left money for Gloria to pay the Bone Collector for dealing with Arturo’s remains, and specified that someone should at least paint his name on the little bone box. Right now, in the big white interment thing holding his casket, there is no name.
Glad to hear what posts you found most interesting, or least. 🙂