I see palm trees. I see white sand. I see water so sparkling clear that when the sun's rays bounce off of it I am momentarily blinded by its intensity. Sitting in my beach wheelchair I am close enough to the water's edge to feel the cool water lap at my does and the squishy sand between them. Bliss.
I am sipping a Margarita and eating sushi. A Mariachi band is playing in the distance. I watch the sunset in hues of purple with a hint of pink, orange, and gold. It is God's masterpiece.
The most handsome man I have ever seen sits at the table where I am sitting sipping my drink. (He'll realize his mistake in a minute. He will make a clumsy attempt to apologize for his error before retreating never to be seen again.)
He seems not to notice my disability/powerchair. He also does not seem to notice the fact that I am sipping my cocktail through a straw. Or, if he has seen it, it does not seem to bother him.
What is wrong with this dude? Any other man would have bailed the minute he saw me.
A powerchair does not attract. A powerchair repels.
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We begin chatting. We discover that we share many of the same interests. Movies. Music. Art. We both have great admiration for the artist Frida Kahlo. I tell him that It has been a dream of mine to visit La Casa Azul. "That is the main reason I have traveled to Mexico, " I tell him.
"I have a friend who works as a tour guide at La Casa Azul. I could arrange a private tour for you if you like. Tomorrow?" he asks. (I knew that he was a local because of his accent and how handsome he is. Muy, muy guapo. Omg. I hope my mouth didn't fall open when he asked.)
"That"s very kind of you, " I said. I get so nervous by his offer that I start to cough. My words sputter out between coughs. Nothing is more attractive than watching a disabled woman choke on her own spit. He'll surely head for the hills now.
He waits until my coughing fit ends before saying, "I would be happy to make the arrangements for you. I have one request, however, (I knew there would be a catch.) May I join you on your tour of the museum?"
Wait. What did he just say? I silently promise myself that I will look into getting that hearing aid. I must've misunderstood him. He repeats his question. No need for that hearing aid. I understood him perfectly the first time.
A million thoughts run through my mind. The one at the forefront is what will my PCA Trish say? Trish has given me my freedom on this trip. However, allowing a man I know absolutely nothing about accompany us to the museum would certainly test her limits.
"Why?" I ask bluntly.
"Por queue?" he asks.
"We've just met. I am guessing you saw me sitting alone and thought you'd be kind to the woman with the disability. Do your good deed for the day. Am I right?" I can feel my anger growing. This has happened too many times in my life. I let my guard down. In return, I got a massive broken heart.
"You could not be more wrong. I saw a beautiful woman sitting alone. She looked like someone I would like to get to know. I was wrong. Even though we have a lot in common, you are too angry. You are too negative. I like positivity. Your disability is a non-issue as for as I am concerned. I was taught not to judge people on outward appearances. To see the person first. My name is Diego. Rodriguez. I manage the main restaurant in this hotel. Mucho gusto," he said, shaking my hand and then dropping his business card in my lap to prove he is telling the truth.
"Nice to meet you," I reply. I tell him my name. My head is down. I avert his eyes. My voice comes out in a whispered embarrassed tone.
"If you'll excuse me my break is over/ I must return to my duties at the restaurant." Diego begins walking away.
"Diego wait. I would be honored to have you join me on my tour of La Casa Azul," I tell him.
I finish my Margarita. Hit the joystick of my powerchair and begin the walk back to my room where Trish I waiting to help me get ready for bed. . How was I going to explain my evening to her?
It took all night to convince Trish I had not lost my mind. She kept repeating that question over and over. It was five in the morning before Trish give in and we finally got to sleep. Diego and I had agreed to meet at the museum at ten o'clock. There would be no time for an extra few minutes of sleep this morning. Wake up, do my morning routine, and head to the museum.
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| Wikimedia Commons Peter Anderson Diego was standing at the accessible entrance waiting for us when we arrived at the museum. I introduced Trish to Diego. I could see her stern demeanor soften as she shook his hand. Diego introduced his friend, our tour guide, to us. I loved La casa Azul with its vibrant colorful kitchen. The rooms were left as they were when Frida Kahlo lived there. I definitely felt her presence My favorite area was the courtyard and garden. I imagine Frida sitting in the garden alone enjoying the quiet while her beloved monkeys and birds keep her company. I imagined her entertaining guests in the courtyard. Enjoying relaxed conversation in the same way Diego, Trish, and I were doing now. Our tour ended much too soon. I promised myself I'd find a way to return to The Blue House someday. Diego said he had to get back to work. He invited Trish and me to dinner at his restaurant that night, our last night in Mexico. Tomorrow we would board our flight home. The magic of Mexico would end. "Thank you for the invitation, but I am tired. I have to pack. You two enjoy the evening without me," Trish told us. I give her a grateful look. "I will reserve a table for us, he says, nodding to me. I tell him that I will be sitting at the table where we met at six o'clock. "We will have cocktails on the patio. Then I will escort you inside to our table," Diego tells me. Our last evening together was better than anything I could have imagined. The sun was setting as we sipped our drinks. My final sunset in Mexico did not disappoint. We went inside to find the chef had prepared a feast for us. Everything from taquitos,, and fish tacos to a vegetarian stew. For dessert, flan, and churros with a rich chocolate sauce for dipping. We learned a lot about one another in the two days we spent together. The most surprising thing for both of us was how much we would miss each other. We promised to email and video chat with each other. Diego promised to visit me. Neither of us knew what the future would bring. Life was not about guarantees. By the time we finished dinner, the patio was illuminated by tiny white lights strung through the trees. We sat in silence. I knew it was getting late. We had an early flight in the morning. "I should go," I told him. .  Diego was wearing a pin on his lapel of the flag of Mexico. He removed it from his lapel, placing it in my hand. We kissed. Then he was gone leaving me staring down at the pin in my hand wondering if the past few days had been real or only a dream.  "Feet, what do I need them for. If I have wings to fly.” ― Frida Kahlo Artist Louise Gustafson |
