A Rolling Stone?
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Some decisions are so obvious that it is easy to say “yes”
or “no” or “in the barrel”. Others take time and some are painful. I made an
extremely hard decision this week. I am moving back to Etzatlan to my empty
casa there from this beautiful home I’ve lived in the past eight months in
Oconahua.
Last week we had a barbeque for the 4th, we being
three gringos and four Mexicanos. Ana told us about a niece and her family from
the States who were moving back and needed to rent a home until they found a
place to buy or build. My first cringing thought was that I am living in their
perfect transition home.
More than once Ana and Michelle have talked about the
possibility that friends or relatives might be needing an interim place to
live. Those discussions were theoretical. Now they were talking about real
people with names.
Ironically, my empty house, which is on the market,
immediately, last week, garnered two offers of purchase. I turned them down.
During the last week of June, I had accepted a lucrative offer for a 6 month
rental. I took a deep breath and notified my agent that, oops, with regrets, circumstances
changed and I want, I need, my house for me.
That’s my story in a nutshell, minus several toss-and-turn
nights.
Moving here took weeks. Moving back will take weeks. I’ll
return with memories and regrets. I won’t get to see that little mule colt grow
up. Both places have their own distinct advantages. It’s not like I’m leaving
the country. Ana and Michelle are good friends. We will visit. We probably will
meet for coffee more often than we do now, living next door!
When I get moved back into my place, I will make changes.
Change seems to beget changes. Little things. For example, I’ll move my herbs
and geraniums back with me and my dog, but I will not replace the 130 pots I
sold last fall in which I had an extensive garden. I’ll hang up my farmer’s
hat.
During the days I mulled over my decision options, I
consulted friends, friends with no skin in the game. I asked them to make any
comment, any criticism, even if they needed to tell me I’m crazy. I did not say
a word, however, to my friends on the Rancho. I already know what they would
say. They are selfish. They’d say, “Oh, good, come back. We want you here.”
Some might say, “Oh, you made a wrong decision when you
moved to Oconahua.” I disagree. These months here on the mountainside have been
precious to me, an extended vacation.
Long ago I came to believe that there are no wrong decisions,
just decisions. This decision has these
consequences. That decision has those consequences. Consequences come in a
mixed bag, joy and pain together. This is my belief, with my experiences. Mine.
I would never try to convince you that this is “truth” or that you should think
my way. Shudders.
I make mistakes. Of course, I do. My big mistake in this
situation was to ignore that tiny niggling concern I had back before my move to
Oconahua, a shadow of concern that my friends might need this new house for their
friends and relatives who, given political uncertainties, might opt to either
relocate or return to Mexico.
That was a mistake, but, a mistake I made for which I have
no regret. Consequences, right? My time here has been wondrous. Now I shall
step aside for others to enjoy this special place.
I’ll return to my other special place, make some changes to
make living there easier for me. It is a win-win, all the way around.
Sondra Ashton
HWC: Looking out my back door
July 17, 2025
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