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This is the third week that I’ve been taking my grandson to and from a summer day camp. Unlike his school, it’s a little too far to walk, so we’ve been driving, taking streets I’m familiar with, but going through an intersection that I’ve rarely stopped at.

I’ve been home alone for ten days. The daughter and son-in-law are off on vacation and the grandsons are with their other grandparents in Ohio. It’s just me and four bedrooms and unlimited access to the only bathtub in the house.

Just when I start thinking I’m a pretty savvy expat something pulls me back and reminds me that what I really am is a rather bumbling midwesterner who just happens to be living in Mexico.

I can speak enough Spanish to go shopping, order in restaurants and be at least a little friendly with the people I meet. But anything that requires much more than putting a few simple words together and I’m pretty lost. 

I ran across an old blog post recently where I had written about the things I googled on a random day. I was in the United States back then and consumed by thoughts of things like New York weather, naps of three-month-olds, and how many Republicans would announce for president in 2015. 

After ten months, I finally saw what most people travel to Mexico to see – a beach. Palm trees and sand castles. White caps and the sound of surf. Seafood and shells. Never enough sea glass. Almost always a hammock.