Ramble on.

            Where were we?  It didn’t matter anyway, Mexico.  I did not know what had prompted my realization that I was stoked the whole way around.  It could have been a myriad of things in the past month. 

            Falling asleep to waves.  Not really having anything to do, but having a schedule full of fun.  Tight quarters with my shipmate, Rach.  Surfing with friends. Surfing alone.  Drinking great coffee.  Stretching.  Playing guitar.  Meeting new people.  Seeing old friends.  Learning a language and trying to use it.  Mezcal.  Jesus left Chicago.  Generosity.  Sunrise.  Sunset.  Sunrise.  Sharing ideas.  Sharing food.  Driving crazy roads while Rach sorted the maps and logistics.   Dogs.  Reading books.  Coming About.  Going up the mountain.  Going down the mountain.  Seeing fish fly.  Jazz.  Blues.  Rock.  Slow down.

            And finally, it seemed the best thing to do was to keep moving to keep this feeling going.