Once Upon a Time in the Land of Yet.
Once upon a time, there were three sisters: Serendipity, Synchronicity, and Epiphany. They lived in a small fishing and farming village in southern Baja, a tranquil place some called Yet. From far and wide, midlife pilgrims flew into the bustling Los Cabos airport seeking the sisters. But they would immediately realize this was “Not Yet.”
One day, a new seeker, Rosemary, arrived. As she walked out of the airport terminal, a man in a van miraculously appeared and whisked her through the desert and then along the coast. One hour later, something felt “muy tranquilo.” They drove through farmland and palm trees until Rosemary found herself on a deserted beach with whales joyfully breaching.
At long last, she had arrived in the land of Yet.
It was much different than the land of Still where Rosemary journeyed from, a place where people often asked her, “Are you still working?” “Are you and your husband still romantic?” “What have you still to accomplish?” Many of her friends felt stunted in the land of Still. She knew they would soon become frozen and carted off to pasture to thaw and then die. Rosemary wanted a different fate for herself and her husband.
Rosemary had dreamed of Yet, a place where she could learn to cook bread, be open to meditating, even possibly stand up on a surfboard. Mostly, she dreamed of a community of Yetties whose best days were ahead of them.
As Rosemary strolled down the beach marveling at the sunset, she met Serendipity, the optimystical oldest sister who pointed at the ocean’s horizon and said, “Nature is your teacher. You’ve been resilient enough to arrive in this foreign land. Look for clues.” Then, a galloping horse scooped Serendipity up, and she vanished. Rosemary looked around and noticed there was a newly hatched sea turtle on its way to the ocean. She watched the little guy find its footing as it vanished into the aquamarine. Rosemary felt a new confidence as she strode back to the Yetties.
At her first dinner, Rosemary sat next to an older British man named Basil. He seemed slightly lost. This wasn’t his natural habitat. Basil seemed relieved that Rosemary broke the ice, as it felt like many of the other pilgrims already knew each other. Together, they realized these were the extroverts, a different breed. After dinner, Rosemary and Basil sat silently in a sand dune called Parque del Alma, the park of the soul. They agreed to go on a sunrise saunter down the beach.
Rosemary’s dreams were plentiful that night. She imagined living in Italy. She saw herself playing the piano (even though she hadn’t touched one since she was ten) and singing lovely Italian ballads. In the land of Yet, it seemed anything was possible.
The next morning, Rosemary met Basil on the beach. They journeyed north, sharing stories and expressing surprise by their vivid dreams. Just as the sun peeked over the hills, they felt a wise presence holding their shoulders. They turned and saw the middle sister Synchronicity smiling at them. With an enchanting voice, she expressed delight that the two of them had met so early in the week. “There’s a reason the two of you have found each other,” she said. “Since you’re both happily married, it’s not a romantic encounter. However, it is mystical. And this week, you will both experience passion.” And, with that, Synchronicity evaporated in front of their eyes.
Rosemary and Basil looked at each other and didn’t know what to say. Ever proper, Basil changed the subject by talking about his wife and how they used to live in Tuscany, which is where they were happiest. They were tired of the British winters and were now searching for where they might live next. Rosemary mentioned that she and her husband had once traveled to Tuscany and loved the food. Basil grinned from ear to ear but didn’t say a word as they soon found themselves back with the rest of the Yettie pilgrims.
Over the week, Rosemary and Basil shared many meals and stories. It was clear they both loved food. They created a bond with the other pilgrims who were also feeling an effervescence and a renewed sense of possibility.
But it was over a delicious pizza at a restaurant on a farm that Rosemary and Basil felt like they’d been hit by a simultaneous lightning bolt that struck just as a skinny young woman named Epiphany slid in between the two of them. Epiphany giggled, knowing that no one else at the table could see her but Rosemary and Basil.
Epiphany said, “Soon, you will have your ‘Baja Aha,’ and you’ll realize why you’re here.” And, just as quickly, she vanished under the table. Rosemary and Basil went looking for Epiphany under the table. Their fellow pilgrims thought they might have had one too many margaritas. Puzzled, Rosemary and Basil smiled at each other with a shared feeling of faith and intention.
On their final afternoon of the week, in the land of Yet, Rosemary and Basil walked through the small, town square. They were flanked by the church on the west, the police station on the east, the historic theater on the north, and an empty building on the south. They felt drawn to the emptiness of the building, inching their way for a closer look. Just as they reached the steps, Epiphany popped-up out of thin air. Like Tinkerbell in Peter Pan, she turned on a lightbulb that united the energy of Rosemary and Basil. Epiphany leaned in and whispered, “This Italian restaurant, and community gem, has been open for nearly 25 years, but has now closed its doors for the last time. The owner, a widow, wants to sell it.”
Rosemary and Basil looked at each other, sharing a knowing and enchanting glow. Rosemary broke the silence, “Basil, would your wife be open to moving here? I know my husband, Herb would. Let’s open an Italian restaurant here on the square.” The stoic Basil started to cry. He’d had this dream back in London. He’d even seen the same square. Of course, without the three sisters, he might never have understood what was Yet for him to discover.
Six months later, a new restaurant opened in the land of Yet.
It was called Rosemary and Basil.