Temporary things

Augusto Pinochet had a heart attack and died. Pinochet was the ex-Chilean dictator who is simultaneously praised for ending communism in Chile and the country’s current robust economy while at the same time under house arrest for murder, crimes against humanity, corruption and tax evasion. He was also a neighbor.

Now you’ll hear “esta muerte” which translates as if his death is a temporary situation. I guess is easier to take if you don’t consider it permanent. In a similar way, it is easy to embrace those things we like about Chile, while remembering that things we dislike are only temporary. It’s really a great life lesson.

For instance, we welcome the opportunities that arise from exploring this new city, adore the lack of responsibilities, and still fancy the “together time” as a family. I love that Ciervo’s teaching commitment is over, that the girls are still getting along, and my stunning new pajamas I bought at the Jumbo. But we also try to remember that standing in line at the Servipaq to pay our bills is something we’ll only have to endure for a short time, and that soon I’ll again be softening my skin with Clinique face lotion. And while I love not getting junk mail, I do miss having my existence confirmed each day by it.

I also love our quaint neighborhood, but hate the traffic noise of the big city. So we enjoyed the quiet of the beaches in Concon, Renaca and La Serena last week. Taking the girls to el cine (the movies) can be fun, but I’m happy that the hour and a half of Penguinos (Happy Feet) is over. And we are so enjoying our time with my parents, but you know what they say about fish and relatives and the comparative gestation time for odor. :)

The Christmas season is a temporary but wonderful way to end the year. While the holiday is over, I hope that the joy you’ve found this season stays around for a long time, and that the backache that so many of you reported from shoveling nieve (snow) proves to be temporary. As for me, I will temporarily endure the blisters from my flip flops, the sand in my underwear, and my sunburned nose, while I lay on this beach chair sipping my Pisco Sour and reading about the “Blizzard of ’06” in our local paper.

Sisma