NOW is the last owl call in the grey dawn light. The morning bird song. The rooster.
NOW is the dusty rutted dirt road below my rubber sandals. The chickens pecking amongst the garbage. The guard dog straining against his rope, teeth barred and snarling.
NOW is the tide. Low. High. Waves breaking. Pelicans diving. Magnificent Frigatebirds soaring above us all.
NOW is walking in town, eyes cast down. Looking for potholes. Looking for dog poop. Weaving out to the road, around the parked cars, back to the sidewalk, around the vendors, past the drivers yelling Taxi! Taxi!
NOW is the beeping horns, the blaring loudspeakers, the reggaeton music coming from the bars and the man yelling Cashews! Cashews Miss! Cashews!
NOW is the sweat beading on my temple. Running down my forehead, between my eyes and off the tip of my nose.
NOW is the power outage. The water outage. The scorpion. The mosquito bite.
NOW is the monkey howl and the family’s scamper through the trees overhead. The flower bloom. The kaleidoscope of butterflies opening closing opening closing.
NOW is the shape-shifting clouds. The wind. The whitecaps. The boats bobbing as one in the bay.
NOW is the old man calling out his blessings to me from his hammock. The Pulperia owner waving. The young girl bike rider smiling. The guards greeting me by name.
[Not NOW are the foreign Western tourists hurrying by, their heads leaning in towards each other, deep in unseeing conversation. Carrying their worlds, steeped in Pasts and paved towards Futures, as a cultural habit or a protective shield.]
NOW is my beautiful exotic NOW-filled life in Nicaragua.
NOW is the sunset. The burning orb dropping quickly into the sea.