The winter flew by fast. But my six months is up. I’m taking a break from packing. It’s easier packing to leave than to come here. Everything goes and nothing is left behind. But it’s still not a task I enjoy. I do love my packing cubes, so that definitely helps.

It’s been a week of goodbyes with friends—one last torta, one last desayuno, one last hamburguesa, one last cerveza together until October. That’s the hard part about leaving.

Tomorrow is Easter Sunday. Last year I went to Sage Hills in Wenatchee. This year I’ll be at one of the Catholic churches nearby. I wonder where I’ll be for Easter next year.

I will miss my lackadaisical days of writing when I feel like it. My life is a lot more structured up north. My April calendar is already filling up and I’m not even back yet. But I must admit I’m looking forward to my hair appointment at Shears. Every year I try out different stylists in Mexico but they can never quite seem to get it right.

I spoke to my daughter yesterday. I can’t believe my baby turned forty. Wasn’t it just yesterday I gave birth to her? Okay, I’ve embarrassed her enough if she’s reading this.

My journey home begins tomorrow at midnight when I take ETN to Puerto Vallarta. I opted for only one day there on the way back. Semana Santa is pretty crazy there. On Tuesday it’s Alaska to Wenatchee via Sea-Tac. And I refuse to check the weather forecast because I know it won’t be in the eighties and sunny.

To all who celebrate, have a blessed Easter. He is risen!