Walktails

Every night my wife and I go for walktails. A new tradition. This is a walk with a cocktail, voila. Our latest has been tequila in pineapple guava juice. This shit is great. I promise. We walk until we are halfway though our drink or so, then come back.

I say we do this every night, but that is a bit of a lie. First off, sundown in Panama is like 6:30, so it’s not exactly night. All of our friends at home are probably just getting off work. Also, this is Central America. Storms happen, and they happen hard and fast. Not little storms, either. We’re talking storms that make it feel like the world is turning inside-out. You remember the scene in Jurassic Park where Newman stole the DNA vials and was trying to escape in his Jeep and got murked by a Dilophosaurus? Storms like that. A few days ago, we had lightning strike so close to the condo that the thunder hit at the exact same time. On those evenings, we stay in as the locals do.

While on walktails, we will relive our successes of the day and pat ourselves on the back. We say things like, “man, we are killing it” and, “I love you” and, “how can you be cold, it’s seventy-nine?” I drink my tequila-piña-guayaba a little bit slower than she does almost every time.

Starting fresh at thirty seven is a great opportunity to make new traditions. They feel important. Something to keep you grounded and a routine to fall back on when everything is chaotic. Something to keep the darkness at bay. Keep safe in the storm.