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Day After

I had considered writing a day after post and then declined mentally but it seems I would ruin a record posting here every day if I do not commit words. Over the past year, Day One has faithfully kept track for me and sometimes reading back gives me a view on the day after or a day before. A year before. Longer. Two years ago I flew to Kuala Lumpur and then Saigon for the holidays. So different yet as I have mentioned on the Edge. For me, the Edge is not a physical place with boundaries. It is this mental condition and my feeling when I get there. Mexico is there for me but Southeast Asia always embodied the feeling of being in some special place where life balanced easily and I could sit by lake or park watch my moments slowly drift by. Watch the ladies practicing Tai Chi in the park right by West Lake in Hanoi. Fluid movements in the Edge. Now in Merida, it feels different this version of the Edge on the day after. I walked streets yesterday and a young couple wished me good afternoon. Their,

Buenas Tardes

Echoed down long after we walked by each other. It was the voice. A common greeting in Mexico but it was the fact that these two were strangers. Our paths to never cross again. I don’t recall ever finding a stranger in the US ever to say any daily greeting passing me when I last visited the US earlier this year. Perhaps Red Ambrose when he told me of cowboy days did. When the train rocked and rolled through Colorado and the beautiful Rockies. Maybe Mr. Amtrak in Reno Nevada had some of that ebullient spirit that perhaps one time marked Americans. Long gone. Not even their souls remain in the Edge. Sad really that somehow America has lost out on the most basic of membership criteria for my Edge. No one quality on this day after and considering that in March I will fly back to Houston Texas for simply days and then will bail on the whole thing to reach some spot on this Edge.

Much like the addict, I need my Edge fix. I need the Buenas Dias mornings I find in Merida or the friends I have in Puerto Vallarta asking me to please return. I miss the Calmate Café and Nora there always taking time to talk with me, enquire in Spanish on my day, laugh when I would jokingly tell her,

No entiende

But I am learning some version of Spanish to use because I like being able to ask for things, ask where is a thing, find the thing on the menu. The Edge speaks a language though. Every day when I was in America I missed more of that careful explanation, that random exploration. It never really mattered in Vietnam where I woke up. On a train riding to Saigon years ago or flying to Saigon (again) or back to Noi Bai Airport and the feeling I always would get returning. I told my friend Van that it is my home. That word too was long unused in many days after. I went and never arrived which is my mantra on any day.

Even the day after.

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