Here

Playa Grande, Costa Rica

I awoke a couple time in the night to the reliable tap tap… tap tap… of water dripping through the drains of the shower. I just arrived last night, picked up at the airport by a friend and her partner.

He knew the apartments I’d be staying in well. He’d lived in the complex for 6 years himself.

“Which one will you be in?”

“I don’t remember the name, but it’s towards the back. It’s small, just one bed, simple kitchen and opens out into a little courtyard.”

“Escondido?”

“Yes, that sounds right.”

“You’re directly underneath the water supply for the entire complex.”

I am witnessing it now as I lay on the bed and the sound of rain surrounds me through the walls of the studio, though it is a sunny day out. The condensation from the water pipes rolls into taps on the roof. The leaves out the window catching each drop falling from the imitation tile.

I awoke this morning, my cat still wandering around the room. Noises around and a dim light coming through the block glass windows.

“What are we doing here?” crosses my mind.

I pull open the curtains revealing the green beyond the sliding glass door. Branches and leaves filling my view.

This is what I am doing here.

I drag open the sliding door to a heavy, warm breath of air, I step outside. I needed to get to the water. The sound of construction filled the thick, humid air surrounding me.

Why am I here?

The question hung in my head. I missed the crisp autumn air of California.

Why am I here?

I rush towards the ocean hoping it will bring me back. I turn down the jungle path stepping through the sandy dirt, green surrounding me. Trees and their mighty branches hovering above.  I halt my rush. I look up. I look around. I take a breath. The preserved section of untouched coastal forest surrounding me.

This is why I am here.

I smile to continue my steps down the sandy path. Spotting a purple crab here and there. The jungle opens up to the sandy coast, blue waves crashing with the lowering tide. Others already out enjoying the surf. The waves always crashing just right. I sat on a piece of drift wood to watch. I do not surf-

Why am I here?

I stood up, I walked through the sand, toes brushing through the waves. The water perfectly cool and fresh. The green vines along the sand bank, the driftwood caught on shore, the protected coastline.

This is why I am here.

I start to run barefoot through the sand towards the big boulder before the next cove. I pick up a dull piece of glass from the sand and toss it back into the tide pools to soften.

This is why I am here.

I jump into the waves, the shock of the salty water burned my eyes.

Why am I here?

I continue to wade deeper, waves gently welcoming me to dive in.

This is why I am here.

I settled. I arrived. The ocean drew me present. I walk back towards the jungle path. A familiar face approaches. His, “Long time no see,” leads to a friendly chat with him and his partner.

This is why I am here.

I continue to pass the row of boutique hotels, people passing to go enjoy the waves. All here for similar reasons.

This is why I am here.

I continue through the sounds of construction,

This is why I am here,

to the complex where I am greeted by my friend’s dog and a, “Come over for breakfast, you like cheese omelets?”

This is why I am here.

Monkeys climb through the branches above me, hopping to branches and swinging from vines.

This is why I am here.

I enter my studio apartment to my cat peering out from behind the bed pillows.

This is why I am here…

We have arrived.