They told me this moon was special.

Now, I’ve seen my fair share of full moons. Living by the ocean, you get used to them. They come, they glow, they go. Beautiful… but predictable. La luna de siempre.

But this one?

This one had a name.

Strawberry Moon.

And not just any Strawberry Moon—this was the biggest one of the year. A rare one. The kind people travel for. The kind that doesn’t come back around until 2046.

So yeah… we paid attention.

The beach that evening was alive. Tourists everywhere. Cameras out. Drinks in hand. That quiet buzz of anticipation floating through the air. Algo especial venía.

A couple of our friends decided to take things up a notch.

“Let’s build a bonfire.”

Of course they did.

So they hauled wood down the beach like pioneers… stacking it up like they were about to signal a ship from 1850. It actually looked pretty good. For a moment, I thought—this is going to be one hell of a night.

Fire. Ocean. Strawberry Moon.

Perfect combination.

Except…

Mexico had other plans.

The police showed up.

“No fuego.”

Just like that.

Shut down.

Welcome to reality. Así es México.

So the fire died before it even lived.

And now all we had… was the moon.

Or at least… that was the plan.

The sun dropped low over the Mayan Riviera, painting everything gold for a moment… and then—just like that—the sky turned cloudy.

Nublado.

7:00 PM came.

Dark.

No moon.

We stood there… waiting.

Looking up like a bunch of hopeful idiots staring into a gray ceiling.

“Any minute now,” someone said.

Yeah… sure.

Now this is where things take a turn.

Because one of my friends—always that one friend—leans over and says:

“Hey… you want to take a little acid?”

I hadn’t touched that stuff since I was eighteen.

And back then?

Didn’t love it.

Not even a little.

But this night felt different.

Rare moon.

Beautiful setting.

Good people.

And something inside me said… why not?

¿Por qué no?

So I said yes.

Just a small hit.

Nothing crazy.

We took it around 5:30.

Now if you’ve ever been down that road, you know—it doesn’t knock on the door politely. It sneaks in. Takes its time. Poco a poco.

So I had a couple beers. Bought a bottle of Cabernet. Figured I’d ease into it like a gentleman… or at least pretend to be one.

About an hour later… I felt it.

Not overwhelming.

Just… different.

A little shift.

By 7:30?

Oh yeah.

Now we’re in it.

My body felt heavy… like gravity had opinions.

My mind?

Wide open.

Racing.

But not in a bad way.

In a… curious, electric, alive kind of way.

And then—

Right on cue—

The moon showed up.

Like it had been waiting for the perfect moment.

And damn…

It was worth it.

Big.

Bright.

And that color…

Not red.

Not orange.

Something deeper.

Something alive.

Increíble.

There was a boat floating out in front of us.

Still.

Quiet.

And the moon laid a perfect path of light right across the water… straight to it.

Like a spotlight from the sky.

With everything heightened—every color, every reflection, every ripple—it didn’t feel real.

Or maybe…

It felt more real than usual.

The moon started rising.

Slow at first.

Then faster.

Every couple minutes it felt bigger.

Closer.

Like it was putting on a show just for us.

We put on music.

Laughed like kids.

That uncontrollable kind of laughter that doesn’t need a reason.

Just… joy.

Pure, ridiculous joy. Alegría pura.

Now I’m seventy-one years old.

Not exactly the demographic for a psychedelic beach party.

But that night?

It felt right.

Like something I needed to experience again—not as the kid I was… but as the man I’ve become.

Because here’s the truth.

There was more behind that decision.

Something heavier.

My family…

We’ve got a history.

Dementia.

I watched my mother fade.

Piece by piece.

Until one day…

She didn’t know me anymore.

Imagine that.

Looking into the eyes that raised you…

And they’re gone.

Still there…

But not.

That kind of thing stays with you.

And lately?

I forget things.

Small things.

Where I put my glasses.

My phone.

My pen.

Everything.

Every day.

And you start to wonder…

Is this just age?

Or is something coming for me?

¿Será el principio?

So I started reading.

Studying.

Trying to understand.

And I came across something interesting.

Research suggesting psychedelics might help—stimulating serotonin, possibly improving cognitive function.

Nothing certain.

But enough to make you think.

Enough to make you try.

Not recklessly.

Not constantly.

But intentionally.

Because if there’s even a chance to fight back…

You take it.

Hay que intentarlo.

So that night wasn’t just about the moon.

It wasn’t just about the experience.

It was about curiosity.

About pushing back.

About saying—I’m still here.

And I’m not done yet.

The evening went on.

Colors danced.

Music flowed.

Friends kept an eye on me—good friends. The kind you want around when things get a little… cosmic.

And through it all…

That moon stayed with me.

Rising.

Glowing.

Reminding me of something simple.

Life is short.

Moments are rare.

And sometimes…

The most unexpected nights become the ones you never forget.

That Strawberry Moon?

Yeah…

That was one of them.

A little wild.

A little strange.

A little beautiful.

A little me.

Una verdadera cosa mexicana.