Still in a morning haze, I reflect on the melodic patterns of La Paz coming to life. The isolated rooster crows that gently elevated me to a higher level of consciousness. Followed by the sing-song chimes of church bells. The deep rattle of a diesel truck accelerating through town. The whisk of a broom over concrete as the gardener cleared the step. The whir of the ceiling fan, a rhythmic backdrop for it all.
Ideas for the day would rise and fall. I’d rehearse the good ones, creating a mental checklist for the day’s boat projects. Picking up the morning beat, my mind soon kept pace with the cycles of the fan. I laid face up staring into the darkness, itching to join the orchestra and impart my own sound. My gaze traveled to the edge of where the curtain met the window. As the sun crested the horizon, my excitement for the day crescendoed.
--Christie Chaney, Waking from La Paz
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