home

I woke up this morning to the sound of cardinals in the yard, the faint sound of traffic on 35W, a cool breeze through the bedroom window. Now dark weather is approaching from the west, the neighbors across the alley have a backyard full of white blossoms, and nothing is tropical and everything feels vivid, green, familiar. I am in warm pjs and a sweatshirt as I write. I've had my tea and frosted mini-wheats. It's as though, in some ways, I've never left. And yet of course it is not.

I couldn't remember how to access the internet from this computer. It took a good five minutes of looking at various icons and straining my brain. I had forgotten how the charming cat Theo is also really obnoxious. I will need to put on socks soon. Socks! I haven't had cold feet in months. I need to walk and fetch our car from the body shop (one of Mike's many adventures when I was gone was getting dinged by someone as he drove to yoga class) and would love to pick up a cup of coffee somewhere, but I have NO money and no immediate access to any, with my ATM card frozen. I just thought of my cell phone and after searching for a while found it but not the charger. A cell phone. I know for sure now that I do not need it. But I'm glad to have it again.

I have never felt that I lived a life of luxury. But coming home last night to this house, with its comfortable furniture and kitchen equipped with a dishwasher and stainless steel coffee maker (after using the worlds oldest and grungiest Mr. Coffee for the past 9 weeks), with the wood floors and soothing paint on the walls, I suddenly felt affluent in a way I never have before. The spaciousness. I have lived for 9 weeks in a place with no aesthetic appeal in any shape or form (though the gardens outside my apartment were lovely) and to come back here reminds me how much I take for granted in my daily life. I live well. I have comfort and beauty and the ability to buy things I might not need. I am grateful.

Leaving Costa Rica yesterday was a strange experience. We drove through Alajuela with Antonio, the sun beating through the windshield (the only air-conditioned cars there are the orange taxis from the airport that charge 3 times the regular rate), sweat soaking through my shirt in the familiar lines, dripping down my chest. I haven't really described Alajuela and I have no other Central American city to really compare it to, but it's a bustling town crammed with storefronts and small sodas (streetside diners), with dogs running everywhere, with lots of pollution, lots of honking (honking means anything from "watch out pedistrian, I'm coming" to "move" to "hey there, amigo" to "cute girl!"), broken up sidewalks with missing storm sewer covers (you must always look down when walking), people with their hands full of lottery tickets which they hawk on the corners, newpaper sellers walking between cars at red lights (sometimes people are also selling cell phone covers and sunglasses this way) and much else. The overall effect, when new to the place, is overwhelming. But yesterday it all seemed familiar. I was sad to say bye to Antonio, and he was sad, too. He gave Kerry and me his address, asking us to call if we ever return. We gave ours to him but I don't know why, really; he would never have the ability to visit here. The money, the visas, the whole thing.

But once we went into the airport, which was air-conditioned, we said goodbye to 90s and overwhelm. Things felt almost American. And what does that mean? I think that's the question for me in the next few weeks. Burger King. Gift shops that accept credit cards, charge in dollars, and that look, well, like airport gift shops. In the airport in Houston I noticed the piped in music. I had heard lots of bad music in Costa Rica--the CRs seem to love American pop music from the 70s and 80s--but no one there has the money to put stereo systems throughout buildings. I noticed the many TVs. I noticed how fast we all moved, desperate to make our too-close connection, winding through lines to get to the next stop in customs, being yelled at by airport workers ("Make TWO lines" "Go over THERE" "If you're traveling in a group, separate PASSPORTS and BOARDING PASSES now", etc.) All my Costa Rica mellow vibe evaporated immediately. I became just what I had been--a panicky, grumpy woman who was sure someone was getting where I wanted to be first. But we made it.

And I am so glad to be home. Home. Whatever it means. I'm here now. And I am very glad.