by Steve Clem on June 29, 2010

“Oh, Mexico. It sounds so sweet with the sun sinking low. Moons so bright like to light up the night. Make everything all right.”
–James Taylor, “Mexico”

Today has been one of those days where I’m so tempted to pack up what I can fit into my little car and start driving south.

All I would need for sure would be some cash, my passport, some shorts, t-shirts and flip flops. Probably my laptop too.

I’d probably head west to Arizona, then south to Puerto Vallarta. I’d sleep in my car along the way, and live off chili dogs from the Kwik-E-Mart.

When I arrive in Puerto Vallarta, I’d probably head to the downtown bars first. Because that’s what one should do in Puerto Vallarta.

Then I’d set up shop that week selling photographs and short stories on the beach. I’d sell them cheap, too, because all I would need to pay for is a bed, a roof, some food, and some cervezas.

Life for me would be cut down to the bare essentials. Work, sure, but only to pay for the good things in life, and most of them are free. The sun. Dancing to the vibrant music. Enjoying the sound of the ocean. The smell of authentic Mexican food cooking in the distance.

I’d spend my days on the beach, peddling my wares, and my nights enjoying the cool ocean breeze off the bay of banderas, hopefully on a balcony on the mountainside, sipping a cold Bohemia.

And everything would be all right.

Nile and Grady, some day I hope you know how lucky you are that your dad loves you more than the above scenario.

* * * *

Steve Clem originally published this piece on the blog A Prisoner in the Tundra.

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