Bobbing for apples

On this day in Rey Curré, I bobbed for apples with my second, third, and fourth graders.  I printed for the first time from my classroom thanks to your generous donations and the all-day efforts of the tech guys putting up the cables.  And, I took a short bike ride to clear my thoughts and view the Térraba river whipping through the hills. 

With 50 days left, I'm trying to keep my senses alert and notice everything.  The full moon.  The theatrical voices of the soap opera in the next room.  The still night air.  The thump of the bar music.  The tractor trailers driving past on the InterAmerican.  Wait, is this a scene of rural America or a an Indigenous territory in Costa Rica? 

But, the full moon illuminates a palm tree rising into the night sky.  And, the voices of the soap opera are chatting in Spanish.  And, the late October night air is warm enough that I'm lounging in a tank top and shorts.  And, across the street from the bar is a hut with a leaf-thatched roof that sells hand-made, hand-painted Indigenous masks and purses knit from naturally tinted threads.  And, the trailers driving past on the Interamerican are carrying loads of plantains and coffee and bread for little coffee breaks, staples of the Costa Rican diet. 

And, I'm sitting under a tin roof in my coral and sea green room, walled with two by fours, planning for tomorrow's English lessons with my first, fifth, and sixth grade students.  My mind is racing through the dreams I'd still like to fulfill here: visit the Osa Peninsula, one of the most biologically diverse places on the planet, hike to the third sizeable waterfall on the reserve, milk a cow, and make a mini-film of all the pictures of the year for the graduation in December.

And, I'm sitting here under the night sky, wondering what it will be like to sit under the same night sky a thousand miles to the North in less than two months.  My family and friends will be within an arm's reach again.  My hands will grip a steering wheel.  My mind will drift back to Costa Rica.  I will unpack a year's worth of memories, and I will tell stories if you let me.  But, most of all, I want to listen.  I want to listen to your stories.  I want to listen to the English language.  I want to listen  for the quiet Shepherd leading me.