These days, we go to work walking through a postcard tropical beach, watching the palm trees swing to the sea breeze.
I can feel the waves on my feet. I can smell the sea. It is sunny but still is not too warm, because it is very early in the morning. There is nobody on the beach. Only Frank and I.
I can see the sandpipers running up and down the beach, catching the treasures that the sea brings. They do not bother about these two humans that are walking along the beach. In the sand, we can see the footprints of the racoons.
We stop here and there, picking up wild almonds, jobos, nonis or chilamatis that will be fed to the wild animals in the center. In the distance we hear the howler monkeys.
After half an hour, we arrive at work. As soon as we cross the entrance, we are greeted by some of the resident animals, the ones that cannot return to nature. The scarlet macaw, the whitetail deer, the booby. In the distance I can hear the chattering of the parrots, anticipating the feeding time. I know that I will spend 8 fascinating hours in that place, enjoying every minute, watching them as they watch us. Knowing that no matter how trivial and insignificant our job seems, we are serving a greater goal: returning these animals to the wild (when is possible) or giving them the best possible life in the center.
The 8 hours pass in a blink of an eye. It is suddenly 1530 and we are done for the day. Time to slowly walk back home under the palm trees. In the afternoon there are more people at the beach. Still, it is quite empty. We start to recognize the people. The old man and his dog, the two girls with a dog that looks like Kika, the family with two kids. Some nod when they see us. We are now part of their daily routine, as they are of yours. Every ones looks happy, relaxed.
It sounds like a dream. But such is our life now. And I love it.