It goes fast, doesn´t it

I´ve been thinking about going home a lot lately--how strange the highways will look with thousands of shiny cars weaving in and out like something choreographed, how my bed will feel, how it will be to sit down with my whole family and have a meal, how I will sit with a friend at Jim´s Place and order a Blue Moon and how, just like that, it will be put in front of me, a slice of orange swirling the thin foam.

Technically, my departure date is a long way off, but lately, time has a serpentine movement--I catch a glimpse of it slipping by every now and then, but before I realize it, it is gone.

Last night, in the nearby village of La Venta, sitting around a rickety table covered in Salva Vida bottles, feet still wet from the hike, I talked with one of the volunteers who is about to finish his 13 months here and go home. He is ready to go home, but faces taking hot showers for the rest of his life and trying not to feel guilty. How do we go back and live a just life--a life in which we understand our fortune and live responsibly? Some of us will go back and forget. Some of us will go back and obsess. Where will be the healthy in-between? Is there a healthy in-between?

Somehow, this Sunday morning, I just don´t have it in me to try to find the answers. I´m sorry I don´t have much to tell you, no recent adventures to share. I just want to put down a little of what is in my head. I want you to know my questions.

Time is going fast and in what seems to be a moment, I will be stepping off a plane in Chicago with no answers.