Galletas

I had a list of things I wanted to tell you about (watching Rio in Spanish; taking my first Costa Rican taxi, but not messing it up; drawing maps of where I'm going and still getting lost; re-falling in love with running as a means of exploring; reading in the hammock this morning; the fact that it still hasn't rained; walking to El Centro; finding an enormous, gorgeous cathedral; eating casados campesinos with plantains, one of my all-time fave fruits, my Spanish improving), but instead I will leave you with a picture:

I was using the internet in Lynda's room (She's wonderful! In the same program as me but last semester, currently in Nicaragua until she returns to the states Saturday) after the family had gone to bed. Suddenly the door opens.

Bailey? Sara says.

I swear I jumped out of the bed. She got me good. Ten-year-olds are sneaky.

Que haces, Sarita? I ask, after calming down a little. What are you doing?

Quiero comer galletas! Venga!


So as she requested, we sneak into the kitchen. Turn on the lights. We tiptoe onto the patio, climbing over chairs and dodging bugs until we find the cookie jar. Sara finds her cookies and content, we sit down in front of the SpongeBob placemats. She pours me some aloe vera juice and we chat in Spanish until Lily calls her back to bed.

My best friend is a 10-year-old. And life is so good.