Osprey - 5-2-2009 at 09:46 AM
Cerrar, to close, shut, lock
All kinds of new surprises for me on my Baja adventure. The bus from Tijuana was more comfortable, more modern, less rustic than I could have ever
imagined. I was thinking chickens and Indians, an old rusty rumbler loosing parts as it rocketed along. But then, I haven’t been on a bus in the
states for decades so I really had no good yardstick at all.
I couldn’t find a window seat. There were only two empty seats and I chose the one next to an old man who was sleeping – my hope was that he would not
awaken and I would not be bothered to have to deal with him. But, as I stored my gear, settled in, he awoke and my dream was shattered. He smiled and
nodded, looked out the window a minute to see if he could figure out where we were, cleared his throat, smiled up at me again and drifted off to
dreamland. After I had fiddled with the Mexican T.V., checked out the tray, how the seat moved I was taken over by the sound and movement of the big
shiny bus and drifted off myself.
I awoke when the old man got up to use the facility. He was polite, moved slowly and carefully and took a long time to return. We exchanged names,
where we were from, made small talk. He spoke in broken English, said his name was Emiliano Flores, a merchant from Tijuana going to La Paz to visit
old friends. The wife of a very close friend was dying of cancer, had relocated to be with her family when her time was at hand.
My story was just as trite; Michael Morris, small town Idaho electrician needing some much deserved time off in a place where one can unwind. Two
weeks around Cabo and East Cape would fill my cup and give me the strength to go back to chasing some dollars around St. Anthony and Rexburg.
Señor Flores said he would not be much missed at his two stores near the border because there was no business now. He had known the woman for a very
long time and they had shared many things over the years. Mr. Flores said part of the trip was to be with her at the end, to help his friend through
the funeral, give him comfort and solace in his time of need.
I said “Yes, closure is important. For many it is not possible and it’s just one of those things where you never get a second chance to say goodbye.”
“Close? Are you saying Close?”
“That’s almost it. Closure. It’s like close. Like Cerrar.”
“Well, she is very old and she has been ill for a long time. I think they will not want to have an open casket for the service. I think it will be
closed.”
“No, Señor, I meant you being there, being with her and the family when it is her time will help all of you with your feelings of loss. It will help
knowing she went in peace, knowing you did for her all the things that honor her memory.”
“It will make us feel better?”
“I think so. I think it is very important. Yes.”
“Señor Morris, I am not an educated man. I know nothing of this Close. I only know Marisol, my grand daughter gave me this little statue and told me
to put it by Margarita’s grave. You can’t imagine all the things I have done for that silly girl. I just can’t say no to her.”
DanO - 5-2-2009 at 09:50 AM
Beautiful. Thanks.
BajaGringo - 5-2-2009 at 10:29 AM
Thanks Osprey...