Back from Costa Rica over 36 hours now, and, I think I am sad.
Can one really be sad over missing sun and palm trees?
Frothy drinks at 9:30 a.m. called a “Dirty Monkey?” (It was garnished with coffee beans!)
Cool moist towel on the beach? Yes, please. Smoothie? Can I clean your glasses, Señora? Yes, yes, oh, sure.
I like to think that sad is not the word I am looking for.
After all, home now, reunited with you guys, how can one really be sad?
(Is the pressure ok? while getting prod with bamboo sticks in a deep tissue massage while overlooking the pacific ocean. Ooph, ah, si.)
It’s snowing today, so maybe the tundra outside has something to do with it.
Or, maybe I’m sad because something I looked so forward to for so long has come to an end.
(Some people are good at beginnings, not so much the ends.)
Good-bye, doing nothing. Sitting on the beach reading magazines. Long stretches of silence broken only by gibberish, “these chairs are nice.”
Good-bye, monkeys, creatures who throw feces at we humans as a means of protection and yet we still find darling, oh, cheeky monkeys! (And somehow we are the dominant species??)
Good-bye rain forests and volcanoes. Whales. Turtles seen while stand-up paddle boarding, the only way to see them, if you ask me, har, har, har!
These are the things that happen in paradise.
In Costa Rica, where seven minutes into our bus ride from the airport to the hotel our tour guide announced he had so many children with so many baby mamas he needed to get a vasectomy. In other words:
We think the point of vacation is to not think about anything.
And yet, we find ourselves quiet on a bus on the way to the airport to board our flights home, thinking.
What if we just stayed here.
What if we lived here.
Quit our jobs.
Bought bungalows. $350,000 buys 65 acres in some parts of the country. Let’s do it. Let’s…
And then, we board our flights home.
And at home we find ourselves…
No, not sad.
Let’s go with…changed.