There is a beach in Brazil, nestled into the last remnants of the Atlantic rainforest, where you can walk at night for miles kicking the sand. Why would you want to kick the sand? On this beach, when you kick the sand it glows like tiny fireflies under your toes. I have been assured that this is a perfectly natural phenomena and, as you can imagine, it’s actually pretty wonderful.
We spent Christmas in Brazil with the Brazilian half of our family. In Brazil, Christmas takes place in the heat of the summer and is a time of summer vacations, swimming, and sweating. I soaked up the heat like a lizard in Nevada.
One night, in the interior city of Indiatuba, we all gathered around the family’s tiny swimming pool and gazed, mesmerized at a new device that sent flashes of colored lights careening through the water. I am more of a star gazer than an artificial light appreciator, but that moment wasn’t about the lights. It was about family. It was about having a reason to stand together and share a moment no one else will ever share.
I read a dozen books in Brazil. I shopped in tiny stores where the clothing and crafts were made by the store’s owners. I ate cheese bread and drank chilled coconut juice straight from the coconut. I watched my daughter learn to surf. I watched rain sheet down through layers of banana and palm leaves.
That was Brazil to me. Brief moments of simple joy and family.