How many wrinkles do you have? Is your hair turning gray? Did your eyes always look that deep?
We are blind.
Blind to the force of time and to the toll it takes in our bodies. To the way it changes us, as does to those we see the most. We grow accustomed to them, we know their quirks, we recognize the way the air changes when they enter a room.
We grow together
every day a little older
but to each other
we remain the same.
Can that be true for the world around us?
We live in the same house, visit the same places, walk in the same streets. Every day we see the sun go down behind the same buildings, among the same trees filled with marks from a time before our own.
I lived in Mexico City for 26 years, I saw streets of dirt and stone getting buried in concrete, I saw new buildings rise, I felt old buildings fall. The more of the city I saw, the more it became mine.
The landscape could have changed
But in my heart I know my home
And my home remains the same
I was blind to its ever-changing face, I was dull to the embrace of its nature. I could swear it was always the same, a hot summer day deep into fall, a week of rain and cold in the middle of spring, It felt like time didn’t pass, a new year just a slightly bigger number, a new calendar in the same wall.
But then what happens went you abandon that land?
I used to feel the deep hug of the oven-like air whenever I abandoned a room and the sun loomed over me. I used to feel the warmth of the beach and deserts walking me home through the unknown night. I used to feel the summer, its weight, its touch. That’s how I met Los Cabos, that’s how this land showed itself to me.
Now that summer air gives way to the cold winds of fall, the night’s touch is distant and the mornings claim a solemn cool breeze.
Now I feel its path.
I see the world turning, and the landscape changing.
I’m watching time pass.