Enga mellom fjella

Met the Sibaja family

Worn out.

At this point I just want to be in my own bed.

It's been mostly good... the bad will be recorded elsewhere if ever.

I leave Tuesday the 14th around noon. Arrive in San Salvador and wait 5 hours. I then show up in Los Angeles before midnight. After 14 hours in LAX I leave for Montana around 2 p.m. and get home after 5 p.m. I will be exhausted.

Good news: my nerves are shot but I'm handling it. I worry too much.

Better news: I met with the family I lived with 35 years ago. Vilma and Ana picked me up at the old family house (we all knew where that was!). We went to Elisabeth's in Escazú (she's a wonderful hostess). Their uncle and aunt were there and although I don't remember them, I had a great time talking with the retired doctor (he's 85). José Enrique finally showed up and except for being somewhat chunkier had the same face and smile. In fact all of them looked great.

...and they haven't aged as much as I have...

I told them what I remembered. Like, visiting their grandmother and how the house was laid out. They were surprised. Of course, José Enrique (whose father was José Joaquín and whose son is José Pablo) remembers me wearing orange. I know I wore a lot of orange in Kansas... but didn't remember. Odd what comes to mind.

I told them that it was a very hard year (for internal reasons); and that I didn't want to return for years. I remember their mother, doña Virginia singing "volver, volver, voler". Nunca volví. I explained how the food was great and how their family was great and apologized that I didn't return much sooner.

The old doc and I had a great time chatting. I owe him a poem about Turrialba where he practiced for years. When I visited last week I passed by the building where his office was on the square. Anyhoo... the poem will be about the volcano Turrialba and the flower la guaria de Turrialba. The volcano has been in eruption for a year, so he confirmed that what I saw were fumeroles and not clouds.

I got Vilma's e-mail addy so I'll stay in touch. I warned everyone that it won't be 35 years. I hope for 6 months.

So much to write about. I have entered in my journal daily. I've sent a postcard to a friend every day. I have notes and ideas and memories. And... advice about what not to do and what to do next time.

It has been a short, short time.

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