A brisk Autumn, the wind snapping, blowing right through me as I walk down the hill into Puerto Williams. Picking up the mail has become a daily ritual instead of once a week. I don't find something every day, but I can feel my heart lifting just a little in my rib cage--just in case.
This afternoon, a letter from my sister and another postcard from Sevario, a picture of Cerro Santa Lucia. I look at the photograph, not wanting to turn the card over yet, savoring that delicious anticipation. I tuck both into my jacket pocket and head down the street to see Lydia.