The next few days, were spent eating delicious home-cooked meals at welcoming tables, drinking fresh coconut water from the vendor across the street (so fresh the coconut tops were hacked off with a sharp machete upon purchase), exploring their fields of fruit and vegetables, and spending time in the natural indoor mud baths and hot springs, which Ixtapan is famous for. When night fell, the neighborhood transformed into a pitch-black wonderland. The sky was prodded with luminous, radiant stars; the brilliant ivory-colored moon casting glowing shadows on my lampless surrounds. At night, we would play hide and go seek with the children. Hiding in the dark behind houses, in empty trucks, and through grassy patches of bean and corn, I felt for the first time in a long time a raw spontaneity and happiness that comes only with childhood. These children live life the way I wish I always could—with an unrestrained bliss and enthusiasm in everything. I hoped I would always remember that pure moment as I squatted behind an empty blue pick up truck next to a field full of bean plants, surrounded by laughter.
As the giggles and footsteps echoed outside, family members sat by Leo’s grandfather’s side—taking care of him, loving him, and cooking for him. The children would run in and out of his house sporadically, spreading happiness and laughs with their fast little feet.
After a few days, I left for Mexico City to board a plane home to San Francisco. As the cab pulled away from the house, the land, and the group of waving family members, a clearer picture of Leo developed in my mind. In his family, in their generations-old home, in the giggling children, in the slobbering dogs, and warm homemade tortillas—I saw him. By learning about his roots and his past, I understood what he had become, understood his complexities and intricacies, that until then had been a mystery.
Leo returned to San Francisco a few weeks later, sad that his grandfather was still sick. One humid summer Saturday, Leo and I went to Muir woods to go hiking—something we rarely did. As we walked through the rugged pathways, we came upon a small waterfall—the bubbling, cool water a welcome respite from the beaming sun. Out of nowhere, a single, brightly colored blue butterfly fluttered its delicate wings around us, landing on Leo. It seemed rare and out of place, like it somehow didn’t belong. As suddenly as it had appeared, it disappeared again into the bright afternoon sky. I felt honored it had graced us however briefly with its beauty.
