Tonight I love Honduras

Tonight I love Honduras. I love the way it smells, the gasoline and the night air, the way it looks, the full moon and the clouds and the stars and the blackness and all the little lights on the mountainsides, the way it sounds, the honking horns and the laughing children and the diesel engines revving and the music in a language with words I don’t understand, the way it feels, the wind in my face and my hands and feet that are never clean. I love the people I’m with, the ones I know and the ones I don’t, the ones who live in houses and the ones who live on the street, the ones I see every day and the ones I’ll only see once, the little ones and the grown up ones, the ones who like me and the ones who don’t. I love the time I’ve spent here, I love the time ahead of me here. One day I won’t remember what the stars looked like tonight and the way the air smelled, but tonight I have it all right here in front of me and I love it. And I wish you could be here to love it with me. Because I know you would. How could you not?