“I’ve been up to my neck working six days a week wearing holes in the soles of the shoes on my feet. Been dreamin’ of getting away since I don’t know, ain’t no better time than now for Mexico. No shoes, no shirt, no problem.”

Slowly the song fades and all that remains are the memories of vacations in Mexico. The place I go is pure paradise. Uncle Bill owns a house on a bluff a hundred feet from the endless sea of Cortez. There are miles of beautifully bleached sand stretching as far as the eye can see. If you look a little closer and run your fingers through this sugar, often you’ll find shells. Round shells, square shells, shells with bright colors or spikes, maybe even an occasional sand dollar will fill your fingers. It’s enough to drive any shell collector giddy with glee.

A short stroll will find a small lagoon, always full of shiny fish and crabs that like to nip at feet. At high tide, it’s just deep enough to swim. I think of it more as a giant Jacuzzi because the water can be as warm as 90 degrees, which is absolutely fabulous in winter.

Slowly, I meander back to where I parked my truck. The motor purrs as I make the 30-second drive back to the house for a little siesta. There I recline on a worn cot under the arms of a tamarisk tree. The wind whistles through the leaves as I drift into dreamland.

I awake as the sun begins to set behind the mountains. I head out to the backyard to watch. The yard is full of small solar-powered lamps. They come on one by one as the sunset turns to twilight and eventually darkness. Innumerable stars appear in the night sky and seem to wink and wish me good-night.