It had been nearly six months since that warm summer morning of June 9th when I walked up the stairs at LAX and left my life behind in chase of a grand adventure I called Costa Rica. At that moment it seemed as though I had so much time in front of me, so many stories to follow and places in the world to explore. How did it go by so fast?

The lease on my apartment was ending on December 1st, and I had a few decisions to make. The owners of the condo were returning, otherwise I might have rented it a bit longer. When I first started dreaming about this trip, I had planned to head south after Costa Rica on my way to South America. I very much wanted to check off that continent, which would have been my sixth with only Antarctica left to visit. This was not the trip for that milestone as it turns out.

I needed to be back in Las Vegas in early February for my little sister's 21st birthday, so an alternate choice was to work my way north through Central America. Honduras had a certain appeal to me, but with it's recent coup in 2009 I felt as though it could also wait until a future trip. Belize remains high on my list of destinations, and is one country that I will be visiting as soon as possible.

Since I had just visited Nicaragua to renew my visa, there was no reason I couldn't simply stay in Costa Rica for a while longer. I liked this option as I had heard fantastic stories about Playas del Coco during the holidays. Between Christmas day and New Years, the local authorities block off the main road and let thousands of party-goers wander the streets in search of good times. Its likened to Bourbon Street in New Orleans. This I had to see to believe.

In an effort to buy a little time and delay any decision at all, I moved in with my neighbor Anthony. He had the same apartment layout as I did, with an extra room where I could crash. It was the shortest and easiest move I have ever made. I packed my backpack, walked 10 feet from my door to his, and unpacked my bag.

This gave me a bit of breathing room, but it felt like a fallback plan rather than an intentional choice. I couldn't help but feel as though I was now being lazy, no longer chasing a dream and simply being a bum. The holidays were fast approaching, and there was one last option still unexplored... to go home.

My family had all planned a Christmas getaway to my parent's new vacation home in Lake Almanor, California. For as long as I can remember, we have all spent Christmas together in the house us kids grew up in. Without fail, year after year, with only one Christmas in over 30 years spent away at my Aunt Karen's house. This was a big deal, and a gathering I was very saddened to be missing.

The family would be leaving on December 10th, making the ten hour drive north through the length of California, and spending several weeks enjoying a rare and extended white Christmas. This deadline to join them wore on me, day after day, as though I was making a mistake by staying in Costa Rica. I couldn't help but feel that I was missing a beautiful family adventure, one that would stay in our memories for a lifetime to come.

The gang says good-bye

On the morning of December 8th, I awoke with a penetrating thought to which there was no escape. It occurred to me that I had been ready to go home for some time now. I had few reasons to stay, yet so many reasons to leave.

I jumped online to check the flight schedules. Harmless in and of itself, but that simple action was the final catalyst needed to send me home. Within 24 hours from that moment I would be boarding a plane in Liberia destined for LAX. It all happened so fast that I could barely believe it myself.

If I had a hard time believing it, imagine how my friends would react. My new roommate, for all of the past seven days, was completely shocked. When I broke the news around town, I was met with dropping jaws and shaking heads.

Me & Magic Jim

It seemed backwards to everyone. I had arrived in Costa Rica during the rainy season, a season when the town is nearly empty. Now that we were headed into the dry season, when the town is full of snowbirds from Canada and the refugees from inland Costa Rica, I was leaving not only our city, but the country as well. In a very unexpected move, just when life returns to Playas del Coco, I was saying good-bye.

My close friends couldn't let me leave without a celebratory evening at Coconutz. We had all met each other at a similar outpost in life, one that had lead us all to Costa Rica, from all over the United States, all at the same time, and for much of the same reasons. It was sad to be leaving this small but tight group of friends. It was simply my time.

Me & the lovely Sarah

A recurring conversation played out around the table that night. We each thought of home, what we had left there and what we had gained abroad. Dennis was scheduled to fly home to Texas in a few days, and Anthony was looking for a path back to Florida. Kenny had no plans of seeing his Philadelphia anytime soon, but would always long to return to the Dominican Republic or Cuba. Sadly though it would be me who was leaving first.

Before the sun rose on the next morning, December 9th, exactly six months after landing in Costa Rica, I was headed up the 151, turned left on highway 21, then pulled down the mile long side street which leads into the Daniel Oduber Quiros International Airport. I was struck by a fleeting feeling that I was slinking out of town hidden under the cover of night, yet I knew this to be untrue. I had made my decision, officially said my good-byes, and didn't look back.

Our favorite haunt, Coconutz

The great excitement of returning home was unexpected. There was no regrets about my time away, no afflictions for my decisions, and no qualms about leaving a country which had been so kind to me for so many months. When I landed in Houston and heard the overhead announcements in perfect English, I knew I was headed in the right direction.

Mom was waiting for me at the baggage claim in Los Angeles, a sweeter reunion there are few. The 405 freeway, which now separated me from the rest of my family, was having a record breaking traffic jam, or at least it felt that way. Nothing could get me home fast enough as I stared out the window at a bristling Southern California.

Dad met me at the house with open arms, ready for a long overdue hug. Although the three of us had found a few mornings to share a long-distance breakfast over video-calling, we reunited as though we had not seen each other since they left my humble habitat in Costa Rica back in mid September.

Of course there was one particular little lady who was absolutely beside herself when I walked in the door. It took a slight moment for my dog Leena to realize that I was home, but once she recognized me it was a no-holds-barred wrestle-fest. She would become my shadow, unwilling to let me out of her sight for fear I would disappear again.

When I saw my little sister for the first time in far too long, I was reminded of just how beautiful she had become. Later that evening when my little brother came by the house, only then did I know my journey home was complete. Unfortunately, I was missing one sibling though, my older brother, which I would have to wait for our reunion.

Realizing the creature comforts of home is not complete until you climb into your own bed, crawl under the covers, and enjoy a long breathe of relaxation.

It was good to be home...