Red's Wrap

We sat in beach chairs facing the Pacific Ocean. Our teenage kids jittered around us, the change in their pockets rattling, their eyes darting up to the hill that held San Juan del Sur’s business district and the town’s only internet cafe. They weren’t going anywhere until their dad gave them instructions. He had warnings to give. We were in a foreign country, after all, and the Indian Ocean earthquake and tsunami had occurred just a few days before. It was the end of December 2004.

In the week we had been in Nicaragua, their birth home, our older son could never be more than a few blocks from an internet cafe so he could email his new girlfriend back in Wisconsin. At one point, when the drama in their new love grew too big and scary, he lobbied to go home early, claiming he couldn’t survive the three remaining…

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