By the time Bill and I had been in Mexico for several months we were finding our groove. We knew how to pick out the café’s and market stalls that had the best food; we had figured out how and when to haggle for a deal; we were getting the hang of hand-washing our clothes; we had learned how to cut each other’s hair; we were navigating transportation and money pretty well; our Spanish was improving daily; and we knew to always, always carry our own toilet paper.

The Vargas family wanted to do something special for the patients, family and staff at Hospice Austin’s Christopher House after their father died here in March 2011. In 2012, they brought flower arrangements for all our patients. This year, in honor of their father’s birthday, they cooked a delicious Mexican meal. As an added bonus, it started snowing!
Our current families appreciated not having to go out anywhere to find food, and the Vargas family said they loved it because they got snowed in when their father was here.

The day had arrived that we had anticipated for so long. We loaded our new canary yellow Fisher mountain bikes in the back of a borrowed pickup truck and mom drove us to the outskirts of Austin. She parked under a shade tree in front of a little country church and waited with us while Bill and I (but mostly Bill) began the arduous task of loading our back packs and pannier bags onto the bikes. Mom and I made nervous conversation and I chewed on my cuticles.

It was my favorite kind of Central Texas evening. Early April, the oppressive summer heat hadn’t yet descended upon us and the air was warm, the breeze gentle. It was just right for shorts and bare feet. The kind of evening that invites a slowing down, a deeper breath. I stepped out onto my mom’s front porch to listen to the mockingbirds sing, wiggle my toes in the cool, green grass and reflect upon the life-changing adventure Bill and I were about to embark upon.