Full Circle (Or half circle? Spiral?)

And here we are. Almost three weeks and we're still spinning, reeling, crashing, hovering between two blessed worlds. We are both enjoying the redwoods and missing the jungle. Both loving and loathing the northern chill and longing for equatorial warmth. (My body still remembers Costa Rica where I learned to take for granted a lack of cold feet.) We are both happy to be back in the embrace of our Northern California community and missing our Nuevo Arenal family. I look around me and sometimes feel it all rushing past, unspooling like long curls of ribbon -- this life, this slippery slope of change. It's all so surreal. The way we're sinking back into this life, easily and comfortably. Almost like Costa Rica was a dream, a sweet, faraway, tropical dream, and now we've awakened to find ourselves in the same town, same house, same place, as if we'd never left. It's the same, but different. We're different. And something's amiss -- where is all of my furniture?! We unloaded (gave away, sold, bartered, tossed, barbecued) much of our "stuff" before we moved to Costa Rica. We did a material cleanse, keeping only our most treasured pieces. This means that we've been eating at the kitchen counter, sitting in camping chairs, and lounging on foam alphabet mats since we've been back -- but we sure do have a nice looking antique icebox that takes up the majority of the living room and serves no practical function but to store our beer mugs and spirits! I have been questioning our decision to purge things like our kitchen table, while marveling at particular items we did save -- mostly knick knacks with peripheral sentimental value but of no contemporary aesthetic appeal whatsoever. No matter, we just bought a couch and borrowed a kitchen table, so things are coming together. Poco a poco. Good thing we're used to living like Spartans, er, Ticos.

In any case, we all seem to be doing well. The dogs, cats, children (and parents) did wonderfully during our international travels. And though it was a long day with many minor mishaps and unexpected delays leading up to it (a true Tico send-off), the actual execution of said day of travel was flawless, full of good fortune, and carried out with great aplomb, if I must say so myself. After a night at a hotel with our menagerie, the two dogs went to cargo at 4am, having been checked in the day before by a very helpful department head, the rest of us, including both cats, set off for the airport and checked into our flight, where we were "gifted" a $220 plane ticket for Sage because the ticketing agents couldn't figure out how to produce one for us electronically in quick enough time for us to catch our flight. That was a nice discount. Once through security and on the plane, we only had a couple of fusses until we landed in Houston, where we ate, let the cats use the litter box (in the family bathroom), ran/crawled the kids around, and caught our next flight to San Francisco. We weren't seated together on this flight because Chris had received a first-class upgrade (which we always take because we can have more and heavier luggage), so we traded his first-class seat with the woman who was seated next to me and the boys. When we asked if she wanted to sit in first class, she said, "Is that a trick question?" She then grabbed her knitting, looked at her husband in the row opposite, said, "Goodbye, honey!" and was off to the front of the plane. Having made her day, we then settled in together (nice and close in coach) for the final flight to our new, old life.

Once in SF, we collected our six pieces of luggage, car seat and two dogs (so fine and so happy to see us) and piled it into the fabulous Baird family's van, which they had left for us at the airport to help ease our arrival. An absolutely, amazingly helpful detail. So with all of our beings and belongings in the van, we headed northward, smiling in wonder and comfort along the way at the dusky skies, chilly bay, tall city buildings, Golden Gate Bridge, and golden rolling hills. We made two quick stops for pizza and a care package from the Prochaska-Everett family -- which included a flashlight and candles to complement the bedding they'd left for us earlier and to help light and warm our powerless house (doh! forgot to call the electric company -- luckily they came early the next morning).

When we finally arrived in Guerneville 19 hours after the day had begun, drove up our street, parked in our driveway and entered our (freezing cold) house, with animals, kids and ourselves safe and still mostly sane (though f#$%ing colder than we ever remembered being before), I really felt accomplished (and cold). And full. And empty at the same time. I guess it will feel like that for awhile.