(Once again, I haven't quite got the picture I want, not due to technical difficulties this time but to not having had the opportunity to take the shot. Check this post again if you want the accompanying visual.)

New York City looked so beautiful from the air. We approached directly from the west, crossing the Hudson a few miles north of the George Washington Bridge, banking south over the Long Island Sound, hopping over Long Island just east of Queens, swooping over the Atlantic and landing smoothly at JFK after a half lap around the city where all five boroughs sparkled, outlined by the black waters like a larger-than-life map.

It's cold. It's dark. Even when the sun shines, it doesn't shine as brightly or warmly as it does in the desert. People don't wish you ¡Buenos días! or ¡Buenas tardes! (What does it do to a person's sense of well being to be wished and to wish upon others "Good days!" [plural, even] as a regular thing?). Everyone is bundled up and standoffish. All of this was expected. I just silently wish myself good days and good afternoons and good nights. As for the cold, I call it refreshing. The rain and snow mean I can take longer showers, and things will green up in the spring; it's great to have something to look forward to! Todo bien...

Yeah, I mastered the art of pulling the wool over my own eyes long ago.

Shortly after putting my local SIM card back in my phone, many pings reminded me that I am loved and appreciated and connected here. Random encounters with neighbors have been pleasant. I have goals to accomplish like wangling a contract, dealing with taxes, buying my boat. Seems like we'll be getting the band back together and at least going into the studio even though there's nowhere to perform. It's nice to eat Kate's home cooked food again, and Pippi, the cat, is happy that I'm back. Todo bien...

Life is OK -- beats the alternative as far as I can tell -- but staying in the warm sun for another month probably would have been the right call. Part of me is still in La Paz. Every night I dream vivid, wonderful dreams of that place. I miss my good new friends already, but I know that we'll meet again and pick up right where we left off. It's also reassuring just to know that such a place and such people exist at all in this nutty world. I'd be lying if I said that I'm happy to be back; I'm not, but I'm not sad either, just resigned to doing what needs to be done and sailing when conditions permit.

You're always at the mercy of the winds and the tides, ultimately, but the choices we make and the energy we bring to the game matter too.

New York City looked so beautiful from the air. I'm using that as my jumping off point for this chapter.