The day was perfect: a November Sunday morning in Mexico City, with the sun and fresh, clear air allowing life to flirt with us, seduce us, and reaffirm the privilege of living. I planned an outing with Valentina and Pablo, two of my grandchildren, ages 15 and 22, to eat in the Polanco area, and then go see the play. Anastasia –which, by the way, is gorgeous. I felt lucky to spend time with them, taking advantage of the fact that none of them had plans with their friends and that their parents were away. Pablo had had all four of his wisdom teeth extracted three days earlier, so I doubted he'd accept the invitation.

We sat on a very pleasant terrace, dominated by the hustle and bustle of music, cars passing by, pedestrians walking their dogs, and families on foot with ice cream cones in hand. There were also the balloon vendors and street vendors who stopped by to offer us something. "This is Mexico," I thought. With a good attitude and his face still a little swollen, Pablo cheerfully adapted to the mild dishes on the menu, while we enjoyed a delicious aguachile and spicy tostadas.

The three of us were struck by the number of foreigners around us, but the strange thing was that we, too, felt like tourists in our own city. We had never walked through Polanco, much less with such tranquility! We had only driven through it a thousand times, during the week on the way to an appointment, almost always in a hurry, with the windows closed, fighting the traffic that wasted our time. However, the panorama that lazy Sunday offered was completely different. Was it the clarity of the air, our mood, the place, the food, or our willingness to have a good time? I don't know. All I know is that all the joy of the day washed over us.

Let's go get some ice cream," Valentina told me after finishing our meal, as a culmination of the perfect moment. With cone in hand, we strolled around and discovered many sophisticated restaurants like Ladurée and as simple as shops, fruit stands, and cafes. Truly, the offerings of this city, and especially this area, are endless. As we savored the ice cream, I thought about how Pablo, 22, despite his good attitude and always self-confident attitude, had become a vulnerable child again due to the surgery he'd undergone, which had caused him to lose the ability to chew. Little stones that life sends to wake us up and appreciate what we have when we have it.

I remembered going through a similar experience years ago and how easy it is to retreat into our inner world in situations of discomfort, problems, or worry. When we're caught up in that state of mind, what happens to us seems like a matter of life or death, but from a distance, we realize that these are minor things and that it's our mind that increases the discomfort. When we feel this way, we become isolated from the outside world and lose the ability to absorb the power of life, which at every moment invites us to value and enjoy it. If we allow apathy to dominate us, we can even find ourselves four people sitting at a table, each isolated in our own mental world, or even in our own virtual world, while life passes us by.

That Sunday, I realized that what takes us out of our inner world is coexistence, beauty, shared experiences, conversation, and the desire to have a good time.