Of all the many enjoyable aspects of our time in Todos Santos, my favorite hours are spent in bed. It’s no secret that I like my sleep and I aspire to obtaining as much as possible. But here in Mexico, my time committed to the prone position is sweeter than usual.
Allowing my natural clock take over, Celia and I quickly adjust from the school/work rigor of rising at 7 AM and bedding down at 8:00 for Celia and 10:00 for me. We extend our days into the night, later and later, until we are at risk of going to bed tomorrow. But we make up the hours of sleep by remaining borrowed into our cotton haven until 10 AM or later. My personal best this summer was a start of the day at 10:45.
Sleep is only one delicious component of our quality time in bed. Celia and I share one of the two queens in the Mango suite. Late at night we snuggle up and chat. Celia tells me about the dramas of 2nd grade. We rehash events of the day and plan for tomorrow. Sometimes we practice Spanish – meaning I practice Spanish and Celia gives into fits of laughter.
Last night we were practicing the ever elusive “Have you done X….” verb form. I’m working through various uses: “Have you visited Todos Santos?” “Have you eaten at Miguel’s?” and so on. When I hit the inevitable bump of an irregular verb, Celia laughs with gusto the produces the correct – absolutely unpredictable – verb. Ug! I’ll never learn this language. But now Celia was on a giggling jag so I decided to feed it with a play on the few words I know. I say “Has tomado tomato?” Meaning “Have you drunk tomato?” Okay, technically tomato is tomate but this question kept Celia laughing for 20 minutes until she finally fell asleep.
In the real world I hate mornings. They come too soon and mandate constant motion to get everyone fed and off to their respective occupations. But here in our cama de reina mornings come gently. The Mango room fills with light diffused through the dense canopy of fruit trees. Just above the constant rush of the fountain we can hear birds and the distant thump of Mexican music but the sounds combine to form a lulling soundtrack that enables marathon sleep patterns.
As we ease into consciousness, Celia and I begin a sort of a dance. First she will roll up against me and put her arm around my waste. I wake just enough to appreciate how sweet the moment is. Then- endowed with a ridiculously sensitive thermostat passed down through my DNA, Celia quickly gets too hot and rolls away. In time, I will roll over and gather her little body up into mine. With my face nuzzled in her neck, I’ll drift off until heat again breaks our embrace. We are like to magnets with opposite polarity trying to cuddle.
When we finally open our eyes we lie in bed staring at the intricate pattern of water stains on the wood ceiling above. In our first week we identified all the obvious images: a mule head, a parrot, etc… We toss off the blankets and cuddle without threat of overheating. Hunger or bathroom necessities eventually coax us into the erect world.
As my feet hit the floor I ask, “What do you want to do for lunch (since it is nearly 11:00)?” Ahhhhh – good morning.