What Happens in the Rainforest



What happens in the rainforest stays in the rainforest — at least what happens between Maria and me. We were able to get over something, something big that would have eaten our hearts out over time.  I don’t know if it was her grandmother’s strange healing rituals, or what, but Maria and I made up.  Heck, we climbed an emotional mountain, and not without pain.  I guess we each cared enough to get through what we had to. I had to get over myself and learn to express myself physically.  Maria had to decide to believe that I truly love and respect her.

Anyway, I made it out alive, and on the way out, I met some local guys and spent an evening enjoying their hacienda hospitality. From their porch, El Yunque’s forest didn’t seem ominous at all.  Hanging out with guys and swigging cold beer was therapy after two intense weeks in a small cabin with two women. I’m sorry, a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do; and sometimes what a man’s got to do is nothing.

I’m glad Maria and I are back together, but I’m also glad to have a little space.  I’ll be back in San Juan tomorrow.  She’s staying a few more days to help her grandmother put up a tree, or do whatever she does to get ready for Christmas.  I think it’s about time I check in with my Mom back in the States.  I wonder if she and my sister would consider coming here — if not for Christmas — maybe New Year’s?

Before I’m back to my bachelor apartment, I’m thinking of sharing it with two women? Maybe I’m curious to see how the four women, Mom, Rose, Maria and her grandmother, would get along? (Although, I’m not sure Maria’s grandmother ever leaves her home.)  My Mom’s pretty open-minded about alternative medicine and spirituality; she’d probably relate very well to Maria’s grandmother. My sister Rose is generally intolerant of alternative anything,  She’s my best friend and I love her, but she’s more conservative than former First Lady Nancy Reagan. Rose will like Maria, but she’ll have some serious questions about what I am getting myself into down here. She’ll size up Maria’s brother pretty quickly when he flirts with her.

On second thought, I would just as soon not play “Meet the Fockers” until after Christmas. Not being in New England is a big enough adjustment for me. No white stuff, no yule logs — nothing that smells or tastes remotely like home — except the sea spray.  But I’m alive and well, at least, and as eager as ever to light up Maria’s eyes — whatever it takes.


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