I sat down to get the passports in order: Two for each kid - one from Costa Rica and one from the United States. One for me.

Where’s the one for me? Inside the little packet where I ALWAYS keep the passports locked up, mine was missing. As my heart began tapping hard enough to hit my rib cage, panic set in. My mind was already trying to figure out when I was going to go to the U.S. Embassy to get another one. Could it be issued on time? But I have a doctor’s appointment in the morning because Addison needs that special note because he’s a a special child…oh and how much will it cost…oh my, it’s going to be hours wasted sitting in the Embassy. The Embassy is…..is…..yuck. The people there really try being nice, but everyone knows it’s this necessary evil we all have to endure to prove we exist by getting forms and stamps and permissions and little books and signatures…..Oh dear, I’ll never get it all done.

So, I went to a fruit market. Although the worry-wart inside claws at me to look through my office just one more time, I know it’s better to remove myself completely and let the subconscious simmer, trusting the answer will bubble up. Addison needed agua de pipa - coconut water - which he drinks about four times a day. Every town has a market that feels like an adult candy store. Just the colors are soothing. And I tell you this about Costa Rica (yes, I know there are exceptions) but almost without fail, I get this warm, cozy feeling every time I am served by a Costa Rican vendor. This even happens at Taco Bell. I mean, those times when we resort to fast food, I find myself actually looking forward to placing my order.

The waiter at the cafe calls me joven - young lady (see if that doesn’t make your day!); the gas attendant calls me reina; the Taco Bell cashier call me amor. I suppose this should raise the ire of my feminist side, but why? There’s so much good intention behind all these little greetings, I’d be the one missing out. By the time I left the fruit market, the three women and I had bonded over honey and coconut. The Spanish flew out of me like a native. I waved as I left and said I’d be back. Tenga un buen dia!

My passport! It’s on a shelf where I set it with the good intention of then moving it to the safe place. My passport now sits all cozy next to the other four. Addison is flush with pipa, and I can get back to that packing.

Que dicha! Gracias!