Looking out my Backdoor: Mazatlan on the Pacific

Greetings from Mazatlan. Every morning I sit on my balcony and watch the waves sloppy kiss the sand. Bird Island sits directly across a narrow stretch of water. Condors, vultures by any other name, circle thermals upward from island nests, then split off in search of wider skies and prey. Shrimp boats troll the horizon. Frigate birds patrol the sky. Pelicans dive face first into the sea, bob up with fish hanging from beaks. Morning sun splatters the beach through coconut palm filters.

One morning I scattered crumbs on the balcony wall for a persistent dove in search of a handout. The following morning she showed up and demanded more. My cupboard was bare. Now I make sure to save a tortilla or bread roll from dinner. She brought her mate, then her family; now I suspect she invited her neighbors. If we stayed much longer, I’d have to bring a daily loaf of bread.

This week I’m in Mazatlan with Denise, a Harlem classmate, and her husband, Don, mixing medical business with pleasure. Don is having extensive dental work. Denise is getting teeth cleaned plus an eye exam and new glasses.

I returned to Dr. Paty, my, now our, dentist, in fear and trembling, the way I approach any dentist. I like her so I keep coming back, covert excuse for holiday in Mazatlan. I had a tooth throwing my jaw out of alignment. The tooth never hurt. This sounds crazy but that tooth was driving me crazy. Some days it was hard to eat, hard to talk. Have you ever had a dentist massage your jaw throughout a procedure?

The larger part of the week I get to show off my Mazatlan, tourist spots as well as the places tourists never get to see.

Meeting old friends from when I lived here delights me. Our beach hotel is in my old stomping grounds, the neighborhood in which I walked daily. So I know a lot of people, neighbors, street vendors, restaurant workers. All greet me with hugs; their faces beam welcome.

My dear friend Carlos made my heart sing with his report on his son, Carlitos, who has been undergoing cancer treatment this entire past year. Now, hopefully nearing the end of chemo treatments, Carlitos weighs over 60 kilos, between 130 and 140 pounds. In his current photo, he looks good, baseball cap tightly pulled over his head. The last photo I saw, Carlitos looked like a skeleton with skin and nobody had much hope.

Carlos gives his wife, Selena, a lot of credit for her strength and faith. When Carlitos wanted to quit, his family kept him going. Hope, we have hope.

For me, simply being with Don and Densie is a treat. Denise and I are discovering even more things we have in common. At reunions, we never had the chance to spend hours of uninterrupted time. We knew one another quite well, but now have reached a deeper level.

I never knew Don at all, really, outside of a series of intriguing email messages. Now I have a new friend.

This article sounds like a letter from a distant relative, so I’ll close, sincerely, with love from your favorite Aunt Sondra.

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Sondra Ashton grew up in Harlem but spent most of her adult life out of state. She returned to see the Hi-Line with a perspective of delight. After several years back in Harlem, Ashton is seeking new experiences in Etzatlan, Mexico. Once a Montanan, always. Read Ashton’s essays and other work at montanatumbleweed.blogspot.com. Email [email protected].