I remember the day my daughter was born. After months of indigestion, not being able to sleep (due to the gymnast residing in my belly), yeast infections, and a changed center of gravity, I went through this scary, uncertain experience called birth. I was 24 years old. It was painful and I didn’t know how long it would last, but in the end, I got the most beautiful gift…mi hija. Those were the days when you had to wait for someone to announce, “It’s a girl” or boy. After she was born, I was amazed at my body that had grown a child, birthed it into the world and was fully equipped to feed her. I had very little to do with it really, but I had faith and trust in this miraculous process.
There are times when I feel like I’m giving birth to this experience called, “moving to Mexico”. I’ve felt much less stressed this week. The house is prepped for selling and we have shown it several times. No one has backed a Brinks truck up to our door and unloaded the required bags of money (my vision). Today and every Sunday we are having an open house until it sells.
We are butterflies struggling out of the cocoon to spread our wings and fly. The struggle is itself part of the miraculous process that is required to throw off the cocoon and strengthen our wings for that migrational trip south. At times it is difficult to hang onto this enlightened perspective, the struggle is part of the process and something to be embraced with lessons of its own.
Napping @Grandma’s
Taking silly pics with the computer.
the adventures of dos tortas 
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