When I remember Costa Rica I think of rain. My bangs forming into icicles. Droplets swelling on my eyebrows, pooling in my eyes, leaping off the tip of my nose. Rain drumming off distant roofs and smacking against giant green leaves bowing like penitent monks. When it wasn’t raining, the atmosphere was sweet and sticky with potential energy. The heavy clouds descended to swallow us. It was a shared ritual, a communion of heaven and earth.