And so my vacation days truly come to a close. Instead of this salt-encrusted typewriter that sat at the entrance to our palapa, today I settled into some hard work on my book with a swift keyboard and glaring computer screen. Instead of resting in a bubble of warm, water-drenched calm I prepare for the eighth of ten writing workshops with my usual dose of anxious jitters.

But still, it's a gorgeous Portland day and the familiar sights from my office window (the string of fake grapes draped around my neighbor's veranda, the lightpost and the top of a Magnolia tree a block away) feel like welcoming whispers in my ear.