Post-trip Musings
It's funny looking at the clock on my computer and it actually being accurate. Time zones. It's good to be home. I miss Costa Rica, but the million small things that remind me I'm home are nice. Home tastes like Chick-fil-a and Dr. Pepper on the way home from the airport. Home feels like Alexis' hand in mine. Home sounds like unintentionally eavesdropping on all the conversations around me because I can't tune out English like Spanish. Home feels like the frustration of mis-typed words on my flip phone. Home feels like the bochorno heat of Texas summer. Home feels like knowing how to get around without a map or a Matthew to guide me. Home sounds like the throaty rumble of my bike when I go places. Home also feels like an unrelenting awareness of a million things that need done and a million people that I want to interact with. But, somehow, at the same time: Home feels like crossing the Rta Ncl 2 in Paseo Colon Home feels like kneeling down to unlock the candado