Almost precisely 36 hours door-to-door (surfing the jetstreams east, anyway) door-to-door from Wattle Grove, WA to Solidaridad, QR.
Well… it did include a stop-off at Plantivoros for tacos al pastor to exorcise the specter of airline food. So it may have been a shade quicker otherwise. But, then, how would my stomach also know that we’re home?
Now I have this demanding compulsion to jump in the pool. I suspect it’s because I have remained un-submerged for almost two weeks and that’s deeply unsettling.
Or, perhaps, it is to distract from how the house is quiet and creepy. Nelly remains in Oz for a few more weeks. Which, to quote Andy Pipkin, “Doon lahk et.”
So I’ll float. And stare at the stars. And try not to remember that jaguars like to swim, too. There's no place like home.
