Don Pancho's

I have found myself at the end of the road. Well, I guess it’s not exactly the end of the road. In fact, the road does keep going. I notice several trucks a day loaded with locals or surfers going past this place. It’s hard to imagine where it must continue, and I keep promising myself that one of these days I will go see. But for now, it’s the end of the road. This is as far out as I am going to get on this journey. At least, physically.

I am settling in to a routine of sorts. Mornings come early. I watch the light come through my bedroom window from my pillow. Usually a child or two has found their way into my nest, and together we watch in awe as the colors of the new day emerge. Woods will have been up already, coffee brewed, meditation in progress. But me, I must witness the unfolding of at least two, maybe three false crescendos before I tear myself away from the snugglefest to step outside and watch the rising sun at it’s peak. This moment can be elusive, hardly scientific. Earthy? Yes. Orgasmic? Almost…