Under the Shroud of a Looming Central American Winter Rain

Bees fly differently in Antigua than in Texas. Perhaps it's the air, or the sunlight through rainy season clouds. Regardless the reason, something in Guatemala makes its way into the blood stream and flows freely like Spanish off the tongue. Hummingbirds hover over winter flowers and a pair of brown eyes widens with a grin as she watches a tile fountain trickle and drip.

Guatemala is a country filled up with deeply religious taxi drivers, invisible street names, creepy old men who eye my girl up and down when walking past, and curious stray dogs who follow us back to the hostel after breakfast and rich coffee grown in the mountains protecting the city. Volcanos watch over pedestrian shoulders and each passer by politely spits a Buenos Dias beneath a whimsical grin jutted out on a strong Mayan jaw bone.

I have something to find in this place. Maybe a better patience for my scattered mind. Maybe a home to return to some day. Or maybe a piece of myself I have yet to unravel. But with the love of my life by my side and an open mind to myself and the land surrounding us, I am without doubt that my soul will find a new and happy shape here.

The sun always shines through the afternoon rains and the morning always follows long nights of travel and stress. Getting here is gone and I could not be more excited to be exactly where I am and wherever I may go.

Cuidanse,
Miguelito