My first Saturday night in Munhori. All is quiet around me. Gone are the neon lights, the heavy hum of street traffic, the feeling of looking down at the city from the far remove of a 15th floor balcony.

The darkness around me is broken only by the lit windows of a dozen or so neighboring houses.

I pour myself a glass of Zacapa, light my last Cuban cigar and step out onto our porch to think about all the changes our family is going through.

I get lost in a cloud of blue smoke, taste the sweetness and nostalgia for Guatemala in the rum and let the intoxication and reverie wash over me.