Three Months In a Lychee Shell

Cemetery in Gracias during the Day of the Dead celebration

It seems like I have forever lived a life of walking down cobblestone streets dotted with the remnants of lychee shells colorfully scattered about, as if tiny pink sea urchins simply misplaced.

Stray dogs that wonder aimlessly, but with purpose. The little girl on the rooftop of the house where Calle Principal begins, who, like clockwork chirps “hello” to me while passing. The intoxicating aroma of fresh air, spices, and coffee which inundate my senses early in the mornings.

Did a life ever exist for me outside of this tranquil mountain town? Where the time moves with the sweet pace of syrup, and nothing really seems to matter; except, of course, that which actually matters.

All though I have only been here for 3 months, the idea of the life I once lived elsewhere is slowly becoming harder to remember. As I sail through the days, my old life is gradually becoming a speck on the horizon, shrinking every day with time, and inevitably, sinking like the sun.


  1. : )

  2. I miss you and will see you Friday. Love, Mom

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