Kathleen and Helen visit the Beach

 

Getting old ain’t for sissies.  But some of us carry it off pretty well.

 

For example, I have these friends in Mexico.. an older, gay couple.  They are a couple of older ladies, as a lot of us are living around the lake in Chapala.  Living in the interior of Jalisco,  is lovely, but it does beg a trip now and then to the busier, touristier places with a beach. 

 

Things have changed since we were young.  We don’t look quite the same in our bathing suits, our memory is often not what it used to be, but it is still lovely to feel the hot sand on our feet, and the taste of a margarita is still magic.  And while at home we most often have a routine to protect us, out in the wild there is the ever-present worry over losing stuff. 

 

We can walk into a room and forget why we are there.  Once in a while we put our shirt on inside out.  But the most frustrating thing is how often we find ourselves struggling to remember where we put the keys.

 

This was Helen’s problem.  She and her partner, Kathleen, spent their first day of a short holiday at the beach, and I am sure had a couple of those lovely Margaritas, even though Helen prefers beer.   As the sun began to set, suggesting it was time to move on, they couldn’t find the pouch with the keys.  Kathleen was sure that Helen had the room key.  Helen agreed and was pretty certain she had put it safely in the little black pouch she wore around her waist.  But, it wasn’t there.  If Helen hadn’t been the one with the pouch, Kathleen, being the more responsible of the two, would have kept the keys.  But, when it came time to leave, neither lady seemed to be wearing the little fanny pack,  and it was a bit of a worry.

 

They’d had a wonderful day.  P.V. is always hopping at the start of December – prior to this Corona Virus thing. The Canadian and American expats had joined the Mexican tourists that visited when the weather inland became too cold.   But after a full day in the sunshine, Helen and Kathleen were eager to get back to their room, change and head out for dinner. The streets of PV were filled with little bars and eateries.  The sound of music and the smell of food floated through the air from early morning until even earlier morning. The ladies were getting hungry. 

 

But, where was the fanny pack with the keys? 

 

Most of us ‘oldies’  acknowledge that we are losing it a bit, that is why we can often be found in small groups, laughing at ourselves while our children worry.  In truth, we haven’t changed much since our mid teens but no one told our bodies.  Our hearing can be a bit off- young people may complain that the television is a bit loud, and we don’t complain, too much, when the waiter confirms that we want a coke, and then brings us coffee.  It sounds the same to us, and we don’t want to admit that we didn’t hear what the heck he said.  We do it with our friends… just nod in a agreement when they say something that sounds like a question and so end up agreeing to god knows what.  But, we get it.

Our hair turns grey and we put on a few pounds, usually around our middle.  But, we also gain a bit of a warped sense of humour – as needed.

 

Anyway… I ramble.  So.. the girls look everywhere for the fanny pack with the keys.  They go through their beach bag, shake out the towels.. They check the bar, dig around in the sand.  Kathleen goes to get the manager, and together they check the room to see if it wasn’t left there and never did make it out of the room.  No fanny pack.  They go through their day, retracing their steps over and over.  No key, and the ladies are getting hungry. 

 

Finally, after more than an hour of searching, with various people from the hotel staff as well as other vacationers on the beach,  trying to remember what else was in the pack that may get them in trouble, they decide they will eat, and then regroup. 

 

After a day at the beach, a shower is necessary to get the sand, the salt and the sun off your skin.  It is a lovely feeling, having the cool water run down your hot skin.  Helen was ready for it.  She was a bit angry at herself, embarrassed, and not at all ready for what happened next.

 

I shall take this part slow.. I can just see her – standing in front of the mirror, under those bright lights in the big hotel bathrooms.  Alone.  Deflated.  Tired.. and hungry.  She would have turned on the shower, stripped down and turned.. to the mirror.. where hanging there, just under her aging breasts and just above her belly where she had searched for it, was the fanny pack. 

 

She had bought a comfortable one.. indeed.  Ordered it special, on-line - something that could hide things from thieves and vagabonds.. and even, well, herself it turns out.  Her keys.. a credit card.. it was all there. 

 

Getting old ain’t for sissies I tell ya!  And man, do you ever need a sense of humour!