Settling In

Image by lisacchamberlain via Flickr

I've been home a week now. I was excited to be coming home, but it was hard to leave Culebra. I was okay as I squished myself into the little plane with seven other passengers. I was okay as we climbed above the harbor. But as the plane banked and I looked back at the little town, I suddenly felt as if I were leaving home. It was different from when I arrived in January. This time I recognized landmarks and could name them. There's the cemetery on the road to Zoni Beach...there's Flamenco Beach...and there -- as I twisted in my seat and looked over my shoulder -- there's Luis Pena Cay and Jose's roof and Tamarindo. And as the island faded away into the haze, I cried.

I've been doing seasonal work for six years now. I never cry when I leave home in the fall, but I almost always cry when I leave where I've been over the winter.

I spent that night in San Juan and left for the States in the morning. The first leg was boring over the water, but after changing planes in Atlanta, I watched out the window for landmarks. I saw Fontana Dam (over which the Appalachian Trail passes) and the Smokies. The next thing I could identify was the Ohio River -- and I recognized the bridge at Portsmouth. Then I-70, and then the clouds blocked the view. We approached Cleveland by circling over Lake Erie. That morning I'd left the sparkling aqua waters of the Caribbean; I was landing next to the drab green-brown water of the north coast.

So I've spent the past week settling in and catching up with an old friend. I can't seem to get rested. I start work in four days, and I still don't have a vehicle to get there. I can ride with my sister on some days, and I have the bicycle on hand for other days. But it's 12 miles, and it's been windy and a little rainy. But I get through life by pulling strings and doing what I have to do, so it will all work out somehow.