San Rafael, Alajuela — December 31, 2024

On this arrival, I noticed the small touches first. Rolf found me on the tiled patio, we knew eachother, but it had been a while, he lay looking up with that patient, slightly amused expression dogs reserve for friends who have been gone too long. Later, near the moss-covered rock at the edge of the yard, a small reddish-tan agouti crouched among scattered red berry debris, paused, and went back to whatever it had been doing before I arrived. It was the last day of the year. Nothing announced itself. The light stayed soft. I stayed quiet, and the hills did most of the talking.