This week, as you may know, I’ve been in Mexico City, packing up the incredible (and all-too-short) part-time life we had here.
I learned a few lessons:
1. You always have more stuff than you think.
2. It will always take longer to pack than you think.
3. It will always cost more to do something with the packed stuff than the stuff cost you in the first place (even if it’s good stuff).
But it wasn’t really all that much, and since we sold off the furniture here, there wasn’t anything heavy for me to move around on my own.
At night, I’d chat with Francisco over Skype and we’d catch up on each others’ day. I’d give him the packing update.
“I am worried,” he wrote after I told him I’d moved two boxes and, earlier in the day, had tripped on a crack in the sidewalk and fallen down.
“Why?,” I asked, thinking he was worried about my swelling ankle or my propensity for falling in Mexico City (it’s happened a lot, actually).
“Because of the bebe in your tommie.”
I would have said, “Um, I think you mean ‘tummy,’ ” but I’ve never liked the word “tummy” anyway. I kind of like tommie, so I decided not to say anything.