Its odd. Being home is strange.
After being driven for the last two weeks, getting behind the wheel of a car seems unusual. Like I’m in a dream and I known I’ve done this before but this isn’t where I belong. Maybe it’s the pavement. The roads are paved, the parking lots, sidewalks,
parks, shops--all paved. The natural world, although just outside my window, feels so very far away. Like the asphalt is sucking out all the life from the trees and the flowers.
I miss the dragonflies, hummingbirds, butterflies, even the ants. The spider problem I claim to have in my condo seems laughable now.
And as I drive, I look at all the stuff. Balconies piled high with boxes stuffed with things forgotten by their owners. Stores selling more stuff we don’t need or want. Items that won’t bring us joy just separate us from our money. I look around my condo, at the closet full of clothes, many of them I don’t wear. The office closet that is so junked up I only open it when absolutely necessary and then snatch and grab before it all falls out. The accumulation of magazines and books. I own more right now than many families in Belize will own in a lifetime. Does that make me better, happier, more of a success? No. It just means I have more stuff.
My skin is dry again. My nose bleeds when I blow, my hands feel as if they are on the verge of cracking. While I don’t miss the humidity, I do miss the moisture in my skin.
The itching bug bites are slowly diminishing, scabs forming and falling off. They are being replaced by accidental scratches by Bailey, my kitten.
Slowly, Belize is falling away.
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