Deep Thoughts

I Sipped Margaritas While the World Burned

IMG_1015 (2)It’s astonishing how quickly the world can change both on individual and collective levels. It’s also surprising how while disasters touch some, others are left relatively (or completely) unscathed.

Me? I’m pretty much unscathed. We booked a last-minute trip to Mazatlán, Sinaloa, MX, just before the world went to pieces. Admittedly, some moments were a little unnerving. One evening, we sat on our king size bed, comfortably scrolling through the headlines and videos regarding the rapid descent of the coronavirus. “Snowbirds and travelers outside of Canada, come home immediately.” The Prime Minister’s message was clear. We returned on our previously-scheduled flight a few days before the airlines shut down completely to tourist traffic.

During our time in paradise we stayed at a beach hotel and every night, we listened to the waters of the Sea of Cortez moving in and moving out over the rocks that lay close to the shoreline. One night as I slept peacefully with the sound of the waves echoing in my dreams, our friends’ house burnt to the ground. That old house’s wiring didn’t care if its inhabitants were in the midst of a global pandemic. It started a fire that burned hotly and swiftly, leaving nothing but ashes and memories where, for a long time, lives had been lived.

Fortunately, our friends were the only ones home on the night of the fire. Their grandchild had gone home with her mom earlier in that evening, and our friends’ adult son who sometimes stayed at home when not on shift was at work. The smoke detectors did their job and our friends found their way through the patio door off their bedroom and out into the frigid night from where they called 911.

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A lamp post in the Historic District of Mazatlan.

I felt terrible about this fire! Of course, I sent a cheerful text when we got home safe and sound. “Had a great trip! Made it back safe. How are you guys doing?” I had no clue what had happened until I received a text in return: “Did you hear we had a house fire?”

After that, I called. I needed to know what kind of house fire. Was it a small grease fire that singed the wall behind the stove or was the house gone? Sadly, it was the latter.

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The rocks at Cerritos Beach.

But that’s how it goes. Rain falls on the rich and poor, and life happens differently to individual people. From some reason (or more likely for no reason), I live in this rural Alberta village and not in a Syrian refugee camp. This is a good fact to remember when I’d like to go for a walk with a friend because Netflix is not living up to my expectations.

Still, it was a stark contrast, my-lime-and-sun-drenched days compared to the destruction of my friends’ home during the world’s general upheaval.

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This has made me feel grateful, a little guilty, and has reminded me that sh*t happens and to not take it too personally. After all, it’s not personal. It’s just life.

Please take care, dear friends, and thanks for making me part of today’s distraction! ~ Lori

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