THIS is what is happening on every cobble stone calle in Antigua right now:
All of the “Alfombras” (literally “carpets” made from colored sawdust, flowers, fruits, etc) awaiting their turn-at-treading from the grandest processions of Semana Santa …
And all is silent on the homefront, as I sit on the floor of my bedroom, scratching my head, glancing back-and-forth between my tiny back pack and the towering heaps of clothing, gifts, remembrances and nick-knacks, wondering how in the world I will ever be able to fit one into the other.
And then I sit on the floor on my bedroom, dabbing my eyes, mentally glancing back-and-forth between my life behind and my life ahead, and wonder how in the world one person can feel such towering heaps of excitement, sadness, nervousness, appreciation, fear and love all at the very same time.
And then I go to the market to buy another bag.
And there I realize — there are no weight or bag limits in the check-in lane of life. These memories will never be lost, and are insured for a lifetime.