An ordinary worknight, no roses for sale at the bottom of the road. But tomorrow is Cinco de Mayo, and I'll marinate pork tenderloin in marjoram and citrus juices for tacos, and in the morning make some guacamole, following no recipe—always almost a meditation for me. I will find my tablecloth that looks most Mexican, rough woven, yellow striped, and the pottery plates that come from Mexico, left out on the sidewalk for the taking several years ago. So days of festival follow the everyday, and special celebrations can be conjured to liven the humdrum spirits.
image: Tacos, PDPhoto.org
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