Last weekend’s weather forecast called for a severe storm. Fishermen brought their boats in. The severe storm missed us, lashing out at El Salvador to the north of us instead. But our waves were big and loud. And our high tide was very high. The rains came and the brown of landscape turned a glorious riotous green. Workers with machinery arrived at the estuary and punched a channel out from the river to the sea. So the river could easily flow with the rains and not get all choked up. In my home country, the United States, the forecast is …

My neighbor, Juaquin, calls them Papallomollo, the flying creatures that dropped their wings at my door last night and began their terrestrial existence. The crabs, I don’t know their name nor where they have been all of dry season, but today I saw them on the road at the top of Pacific Marlin by Cristo. And later along the scree where the hillside turns into the beach. And the brilliance of the air and sea! As if rain drops could settle the dust down to the bottom of the sea. And Nella. She finally, after months, left the shady bush …

The past two mornings I’ve awakened to torrential rains. It pounded on the plastic tiles on the roof of our porch and poured down the gutter spouts. It even entered through hairpin cracks under the aluminum windows in our bathrooms, ran down the walls and puddled on the floor. I never left the house yesterday for the first time in over a month since we’ve been back. But today when the downpour ended we had to stretch our legs. With the rain and the high tides and the human dredging of the sand, the river has finally broken through to …