Those moments

Iquique-bound, I'm in the terminal in Arica. My cabdriver this morning was a woman. In Ecuador & Colombia, most of the women I met didn't know how to drive, much less drove taxis. Even in NYC, it's a rare thing. Seems like Chilé is pretty balanced with respect to women's rights. But with a woman as president, I guess anything goes. It's so weird, the bus I'm on smells like disinfectant. And it's clean! And the seats are really wide. You have to twist and swivel past the seats in the aisle. I've grown so accustomed to buses that smell like food, earth, dust, body odor, that this is strange...almost uncomfortable! HA! They say Chilé is the second most expensive country in South America, so this will probably be a better transition back to the US.

I wonder how many miles I've traveled this trip. It would be cool to map out no? Let's see if I can find something. Geez, Google, what's that about?!?

I think I was two years old the first I can remember my Dad changing my diapers. My folks always scooted me over to the hearth, them sitting on the bricks, my tush up against the end, legs flailing. And I remember being at my grandmother's house in the bathroom, the same one she died in, putting on a diaper I'd found under the sink. Only I was way too old to be wearing diapers. Maybe 5? My grandmother's bathroom door only closed if you squeezed the lock into place. Then the lock would function. If you didn't push the door all the way, you found yourself bare-assed trying to squeeze into a diaper at an age way too old for a diaper. I guess I just wanted to go back to being on my Dad's shoulders, go back to smelling like a baby, go back to falling asleep on my Mom's lap.

My father used to eat apples with a small knife. A paring knife, I think, it would have probably been used for other purposes had the tip not been broken off. As it was, the only purpose it served was for my Dad to slice up apples. He'd circle the core, rotating the apple with his left hand, eating the slices directly off the knife with his right. He shared, too, with any of us that asked. You could grow up without nice things, without carpet on the floors, no kitchen, whatever it may be, but it seems like if you have those moments of tenderness and care, you're going to be alright.