After I returned to the states from Costa Rica, I wrapped up my marriage (finalized the divorce) and I wrapped up grad school (got my diploma). I was contemplating a move to Seattle but having a hard time finding a job. So, like any good mystic-in-training, I got a psychic reading.
"Wait to move until after this coming winter (2010-2011). Seattle is a good fit for you but be alert. If something comes along really magical and lucky-- if something drops into your lap-- go ahead and act on it . . ."
Well, it was now March, 2011 and I had plans to move to Seattle in June. I also had a ticket to Costa Rica. I had decided to go back for three weeks, the place where I had truly stepped into myself, and sort of complete the circle before I got a job and would have to ask for permission to take a vacation.
The only thing I had left to do was work up the guts to contact a certain redheaded Costa Rican to let him know I was going to be back in the country and to see if he wanted to make good on our date. But it had been two years since I’d met him, and I’d only met him for Pete’s sake. We spent just a few hours, total, in one another’s presence and we’d had one conversation. Each time I thought about finding my old travel journal and looking up his email address I stopped myself by reasoning that he stood out to me only because I had been on vacation; it was unlikely that he even remembered me. After all, as a tour guide, he met tourists everyday. And I hadn’t even heard from him since that day. That probably meant he had a girlfriend by now. It would probably be better to just leave it alone and let the story exist as a sweet what-could-have-been rather than risk rejection forever.
But the feeling that I should contact Andy wouldn’t go away. In fact, as my trip came closer the feeling only became stronger. One night, a few weeks before my flight was scheduled to Costa Rica, I decided that “tomorrow I will find my old travel journal, find Andy's email address and email him!"
I opened my laptop the next morning and discovered, startlingly, that I wouldn’t be needing my old travel journal after all . . .
On Mon, Mar 28, 2011 at 6:34 AM, Andy wrote:
Hola Darla! How are you? Do you remember me?
On Mon, Mar 28, 2011 at 8:26 AM, Darla wrote:
Andy! Wow, you must be a mind reader—I’ve been thinking about emailing you for a few weeks now. I’m actually coming back to Costa Rica in three weeks! Do we still have a dancing date?
On Tue, March 29, 2011 at 9:54 PM, Andy wrote:
Wow I cannot believe this! Really, you’ll be here in three weeks? That makes me very happy. You’ve been on my mind a lot lately and so I decided that I would email you. I’ve been practicing a lot in order to dance with you :)
What time and day do you get to Costa Rica? I will pick you up at the airport if you’ll let me!
On Wed, March 30, 2011 at 10:29 PM, Darla wrote:
I’d love to be picked up at the airport! I’ll send you my flight itinerary, but warning: my flight is going to arrive very, very, early in the morning.
I get to Costa Rica on April 18th and will be in the country for three weeks. I have friends on the Caribbean to meet up with too so what is your schedule like? When/what would be best for our date?
On Thur, March 31, 2011 at 7:16 AM, Andy wrote:
Don’t worry, I like the early morning. Just tell me the hour and I’ll be there! I think a good plan is that you come up to the mountains and stay at my lodge and then I can escort you to the Caribbean, too! If you’d like.
I like flirting with you ;) Guapa.
I woke up and just KNEW that it was time to email you—it was like fate was telling me to email you . . .
Being in touch with Andy again opened a flood of dream wisdom. In the span of a few short weeks, I had several BIG dreams. These dreams all pointed to something big changing and shifting in my life and I had no doubt being reunited with Andy was part of this shift and part of the reason why my spiritual support team was sending me BIG dream after BIG dream.
I became lucid as I was zooming through the cosmos, rushing to get back to my body. Stars and galaxies zoomed past me but I barely noticed. I had a laser sharp focus-- my body needed me.
I wasn't traveling alone either; two orbs of light zoomed along next to me. They thought all of this was funny and were trying to distract me from my sudden serious demeanor. I swatted at them like flies.
Meanwhile, back in my bedroom in New Mexico, I was coughing in my sleep and trying to wake up to take a drink of water. I could barely open my eyes to see that the sun cresting over the Sandia mountains. Dawn.
My attention snaps back to the cosmos. I'm almost back to my body. Hurry, hurry, hurry. How did this happen? My companions are full on taunting me at this point. They're a little miffed that our adventure had been interrupted but they can't help but tease me either-- "Haha! Look who has a body they have to get back to!", they sing. They think my predicament is hilarious and take the opportunity to remind me that they were, literally, free spirits. No bodies to get back to for them. Not yet anyway.
Phew! I've made it back to my body, just in time.
I finally manage to sit up. My throat is dry and the coughing is starting to make me feel raw. I feel my awareness come back in quick layers. I see two small orbs of light hovering over me and my bed, their laughter echoing in my ears. The more I wake up, the more they, and their laughter, fade. I try to get up and walk over to my desk where I've left a glass of water. However, I'm not completely back in my body and my knees give out under me. I fall to the floor and can't stand up. I begin to drag myself towards the desk and that damn glass of water, coughing all the way. In between coughs I start laughing. This is funny.
By the time I cross the room to my desk I'm feeling more myself and am able to stand. I take a drink of water and quench my parched throat.
I walked to the kitchen where my roommate was making coffee.
"How'd you sleep?" She asked, cheerily.
"Great!," I replied. "I think I just met my unborn children . . . "
April 18th, 2011
I couldn’t believe it. After one chance meeting and two years of no contact, I was flying to Costa Rica to see a man who had been thinking about me as much as I had been thinking about him. And after three weeks of increasingly flirtatious emails there were many ways that I had pictured the moment at the airport when Andy and I would first kiss.
I’d drop my bags and run towards him, jumping into his muscular arms while he kissed me deeply in the rain (oh wait, that’s The Notebook), or I’d exit the airport, my hair much thicker sultrier then it actually is and my t-shirt much lower and tighter than it ever really is, and there he’d be, waiting for me. Leaning against his car all Ryan Gosling-like (oops. Still The Notebook). He’d pull me close and penetrate me with his gaze before tangling his hands up in my hair and pulling me in for a long, deep, passionate kiss . . . or, or . . .
No matter how it went down I was sure of one thing: there was never going to be a more perfect first kiss. Not even in Hollywood. The sky was going to fall down and the entire world would shudder when our lips finally met.
Only, it didn't.
You know that guy that hangs out at airports in other countries and pesters you to let him “help” you with your luggage/get you a taxi/pick your nose for you— things you can manage all by yourself thankyouverymuch? And when you brush him off he pouts and tries to guilt you into paying him simply for being a pest? You know the guy.
That son of a . . .