we're in the middle of three, maybe more, weeks traveling...first it was just supposed to be costa rica, but somehow, funny how that works, we ended up in panama, in boca del toro...and life just slows down and changes, doesn't it...
but we're in our room, hiding from the unbelievable heat during the day, and suddenly we talk about home like it's so far away but we know it's there, waiting for us, work and school and money and our stupid little dog and how he's doing, but it's like i've always said and liked about traveling...as soon as the plane's wheels leave the runway, there's no use worrying if you left the iron on or not...it's out of your hands...i've always loved that feeling...i wonder if death is like that for some...just a relief...just a letting go...
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