San Pedro and Hope.

"It is not about what you have done, it is what you are about to do"

Night was falling rapidly. The warm ball of fire finally slipped behind the last tree, the lights dimmed setting the mood, while the static sizzling of meat was the only sound other than the constant drone of the passing current. I lay, my purple bathrobe wrapped tightly around my body, watching Ben move the meat back and forth, salting as needed, a freshly chilled beer in his hand. Hunter sat to my right, slicing the meat that was done, dolling it out to us who sat nearest to the fire, the kids could be heard far off playing games assimilated with youth. Jorge swished his boxed white wine around in a plastic cup, and continued in his gloriously dignified Mexican accent about kidnappings in Mexico. My mouth became drowned in the thoughts of what I was bout to eat, my mind somewhere else, lost in it all. It was the end of the first day of our short Rio San Pedro trip, it was the end of a day that taken us from the blinding lights and deafening noise of the discos, to the tranquil, clear blue, waters of the San Pedro.

The beauty had taken us aback. Hunter and I slid forward in our kayaks, eyes peering deep into the depths of the river, the sudden underwater canyons and cliffs the cause of our straining necks. To our sides marble colored clay walls rose up, huge ferns, bamboo, and vines encroaching on the clean walls. We couldn't help but gleefully chatter about all the things we could do if we had a week, a snorkel, and no plans. This river fed the imagination. It brought us from the perceived notions of life, and into the reality of simplicity. To be naked, free from friends, alone, free from the confines of the city, work, reality itself. Free. Truly free. How I longed to be alone on these shores, a small tent, fishing pole, no time limit, no want to go home, no longing for anything, only for the sun to continue to tan my body, and bleach my hair. The long forgotten dreams of my childhood came flooding back, intermingling with the swirling eddy lines, and sudden change of current.

The day seemed as though it would never end, nor did I want it to. With each bend in the river the beauty changed, it was as though we were staring at a lover in the dark, only the street lamp outside to illuminate the beauty, forcing our eyes to strain, to soak in the deep emotion of the moment.

Ben turned over the large steak in the center, slid it on to a long weathered board we had taken into our service, and Hunter cut it into delectable strips. I took the final slug of the red wine in my cup, and chased it with a piece of the perfectly seasoned meat. As dinner ended, my body slid onto my bright green ground mat, placed with care near the fire. The stars came out in rare form, bright, with hope, with promise. My chest rose and sank, my ears became enveloped in the sound of the river, I fell into the dreams of the sober, a first in a while.

The San Pedro stuck in my mind, it refused to leave. I cannot go back, as the days grow longer, brighter, and sunnier, the river waits, but I can not return. The lack of the monopoly like money here keeps me waiting in town, keeps me working, keeps me in the cycle of bars. How I dream of returning, to float through the canyons, a smile plastered on my face, my eyes in constant awe.

I stood, head in hands, outside the bar trying to forget the events after I returned, the pain of what I heard. Cool night air rushed past my face, my body leaning against the outside railing.  Suddenly a hand fell on my shoulder, "Hey you shouldn't go the bed, the night is young" came the bubbly Spanish voice of some girl. I lifted my head and stared back, "I am not sleeping, just thinking" was all I could say. She asked me where I was from, ran her hand through my hair, enamored with its golden color. "Come dance with me" she said, her eyes sparkling in the cool night air. We descended into the dance floor. I took her hips in my hands, she wrapped her arms around my neck. The music faded, the world went black. A spot light seemed focused on her face. Her name hung in the back of my brain. It was exactly what I needed. To Forget. Forget about the San Pedro, the bullshit of the town, the nights lost in flashing lights, the passing of time.

"It has passed, you can't live in the past, you can't live in the present, you have to wait for the future. "

The world has a strange way of dropping you into the depths, then raising you into the sky. It is the ride that shows what a person is made of, what a person is capable of dealing with. I have shown that I am learning. The constant rise and fall of life is what makes it worth living. The hope of better times allows for one foot to step in front of the other. While my problems are not nearly as bad as others, they are still mine. I often realize the way I come off, complaining about the problems I face living in a beautiful place, with many opportunities, and endless parties. Sometimes even when everything is okay, you wake up sad, and don't know why, you wake up hurting, and don't know why, but that is okay. That is what makes you human. That is what makes you able to empathize. That is what makes you able  appreciate life. To appreciated every heartbreak, crisis, and turmoil, because when the night has ended and the sun rises, it is the best sun rise you have ever seen. It is full of hope, love, and appreciation.