It's late and dark.
Everyone is asleep.
Well, everyone except me.
I've been up for a while watching an old episode of "Project Runway-All Stars" that has Spanish subtitles. My spanish is improving because I am noticing discrepancies. The designer I predict to win, does not. I'm always off on this.
I make my way through the house closing windows and doors, trying to remember which switch powers the ceiling fan that spins silently above me. Zorra reluctantly moves from her spot on the cool tile by the front door as I shut out the life that continues outside. Even at this hour.
Tropical climates always have so much energy in the air. A buzz that never stops. The humidity propels creation and us humans are merely an element in a universe of activity.
Pre-Bed Check Off List Continues-
take out contacts
floss
brush teeth
wash face
moisturize.
Having time and adequate rest makes self-care automatic. There is no barter system at work---"if you skip the nighttime floss, you can do it in the morning and collapse into bed immediately".
No urgency presents itself.
Zorra and I move quietly into our temporary room, (still in Hatillo until we move into our new place on April 20th) and try not to wake Tommy. Even though I secretly wish he'd wake up. I'm not sleepy. I crawl in bed, softly brushing the sand that I can't keep out and position my pillow for rest.
But rest is otherwise occupied so I stare at the wall next to Zorra. I scoot my body down the bed to lie more parallel to her and I stroke her belly. Worried that I am keeping her awake, she offers gentle reassurance by slightly lifting her leg to expose her soft underside.
I write emails in my head and wonder what certain friends are doing.
And then it arrives, a bittersweet moment of homesickness. Nostalgia for days when routine was determined. A feeling of guilt when I remember my mother's recent email stating, "you feel so far away". The lonely plight of every ex-pat that rarely sees the light from under the cloak of so-called "adventurous living".
I need to get working, I think to myself. I need to know some money is coming in. That will soothe my mind.
I go through the schedule of the life I've left behind and as suspected, I do not miss the long days. I do not miss the sense of exhaustion I'd feel after doing a bunch of I-don't-even-know-what. But I am a creature of discipline and routine, despite any reputation that would claim otherwise. There is some worry that with new work I may feel some of these things again. Such is life, I think and vow to keep things simple.
My mind turns to my friends again. Do they miss us? Have we been compartmentalized? Are we lost in a surreal world told through stories from the blogosphere?
Tommy snores softly, a sure sign he is truly tired, and I cuddle up next to him and kiss his shoulder. The fan blows cool air across the sheets. I roll over, onto my back, and the sleep finally comes.
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