Grace

There are moments of grace and beauty. Blowing bubbles with Antonella was one of them.

Let me set the scene: a church group sings nearby of peace and love and liberty; the sun is setting big and orange and low; for the first time in México, the tiny house is unhitched and plugged in; and the air is redolent with sweet plumeria.

I break out a bubble wand, one of a package of six. What else to do on a Saturday night in Baja California Sur?

My neighbor comes over to make sure I see the sunset. I hand her my wand, and get another one. We wave our arms, and bubbles float through the campground — glistening orbs of blue, green, yellow, orange, red, violet. We sway to the music of love and god, dance to the setting sun, connected to everything and everyone.

I am full.