Hello sweet girl and happy 116 months!
Right now it’s 66 degrees outside, so naturally you are in fuzzy, footie pajamas under a fleece blanket on the couch. I don’t think I broke a sweat today, and that’s so … weird.
We are back in Savannah for a few weeks during your spring break, and arrived late last night. Footie pajamas were the first item on your to-do list. Second, a happy reunion with your stuffies.
Of course we were very glad to see family, but thankfully it hadn’t been such a long space between visits this time. We had lots of company these past several weeks!
First, Boo and Auntie came to see us! In between all the cuddles, there was a lot of beach time and even a day spent 4-wheeling around the jungle. I might’ve even let you drive. You might’ve loved it.
Then last week, Nana, Granddaddy, your Uncle Jeff, Aunt Michelle and cousins Stella and Jane came to visit. What didn’t we do? We explored beaches, rode horses, tried aerial yoga and took surf lessons.
And rock climbing!
This trimester at school, you traded kickboxing class for rock climbing class. I really wasn’t sure what to expect – you’re a strong girl, but could you make it ALL THE WAY up that 40 meter wall? And if you couldn’t, how disappointed would you be?
I needn’t have worried. I watched, proud and amazed, as you scrambled up the wall, making it all the way to the top on your first attempt. It certainly wasn’t easy, but I loved your determination and the way you attacked the task.
I was so inspired, that I joined the adult rock climbing club too. It’s tough climbing up that wall, and when my arms are shaking with the effort, I think about your determination and I want to make it to the top for me – and for you, too. And so I do.
It has been a great month in the jungle for you. One of the highlights was the school dance – even though at first, you didn’t want to go.
“There will be BOYS there,” you said. “And what if they ask me to dance?”
Oh boy – your Daddy and I thought – it begins. I’m sure part of you was afraid they’d ask you to dance, and part of you was afraid they wouldn’t.
But you and your girlfriends all finally agreed to go, and I snapped a picture before we drove away (parents were not invited!). When we rolled back up two hours later, the music was thumping, the lights were low and a disco ball was flinging color all over the dance floor. You and your girlfriends were right in the middle of it, impossibly sweaty and deliriously happy.
It felt like a milestone, like a rite of passage. You girls felt so grown up, out there dancing together, and several of you agreed it was one of the best nights you’d had in a long time.
“What did the boys do?” I asked. “Did they ask you to dance?”
“No,” you answered. “They took off their shirts and ran around.”
Okay then! Fine by me.
You’ve made some great gal pals in Nosara, and you’re already starting to dread the good-byes. The other day in the car on the way home from school, you told me that you and your friends have decided you’re all going to cry and cry on the last day of school.
I couldn’t resist an I-told-you-so. When you found out we were moving to Costa Rica, you were devastated. You were so worried you wouldn’t have friends.
Yes, you have missed your Savannah crew very, very much, but you have made lasting friendships in Costa Rica. My hope for you, when we began this journey, was that when it was time to go the parting would be bittersweet. That you’d discover things (and people!) to love in Costa Rica, but also be drawn back to things you love in Savannah too. And I’m finding this to be true.
We were shopping the other day in a store in Nosara that sells signs with clever slogans carved onto them. You wanted one, and flipped through the stack. I admit I was surprised – pleasantly so – when I saw the sign you chose.
It says, “If you’re lucky enough to live in Nosara, you’re lucky enough.”
Yes. That. It doesn’t mean you’re not also lucky to live in Savannah – we love this place. But I’m glad you will finally admit that we’ve all been pretty lucky this year to have the experiences we’re having.
I certainly know I’m lucky enough, and you’re a big reason why. I love you so much, sweet girl.
lenish the store, so tonight we walked the beach at Guiones, looking for more shells and fish bones. We’re asking around to see if we can source more string for necklaces. We’re foraging for more wood for your paintings.
Hello sweet girl and Happy 114 Months to you!
Hello sweet girl and Happy 113 Months! Could this be the latest I’ve ever been getting your letter written? Perhaps. But I don’t think you’ll be too hard on me – a whirlwind would not adequately describe these last few weeks. They’ve been good, but exhausting, with little time to pause, reflect, and write.
You were near tears – tears that I could not understand – until you told me that the boys at school had made fun of you that day for wearing shorts.
day. That way, you wouldn’t be the only one in a dress in 4th grade. I promised if you’d wear it once – just once – I’d never make you wear it again.
l time in the afternoons and weekends for swimming in the pool, walks on the beach, or sunset sandcastle building with friends.
gh, seeing as you knew no Spanish. You ended up with “Buenas Noches, Luna,” or “Good Night, Moon,” a book that was a favorite when you were younger.
‘m so glad to be experiencing them with you and your Daddy. I love you so much sweet girl!
s to do over this past year has been to play with the Photobooth app on my computer. It allows you to take photos using the built-in camera, and then edit them with really zany effects.
As we prepare for our trip to Costa Rica, each week seems to bring a new obsession. Something new to keep us up at night, wishing for a crystal ball. This week, it’s the question of visas.