Before love asked more of me than I could give, before land and labor and hard choices, there was Guatemala.
Daisy and I went together –brother and sister by choice, not blood. The kind of bond that forms not from history, but from timing. From arriving in each other’s lives when neither of us needed fixing, just company.
We drove.
A wide circle across a beautiful country, starting at the lake.
Panajachel greeted us first –Lake Atitlán stretched wide and calm, volcanoes standing watch like old guardians. Mornings felt suspended there, like the world hadn’t decided what it needed from us yet. We walked slowly. Talked easily. Let silence sit when it wanted to.
Then Antigua –cobbled streets, open markets, color everywhere, ruins softened by time. We wandered without urgency. Restaurant stops turned into conversations. Conversations turned into laughter. No agenda. No pressure. Just movement.
The road pulled us deeper.
Semuc Champey felt unreal water stacked on water, turquoise pools layered like a dream someone forgot to wake up from. We swam. We hiked. We rested. We said very little, because some places don’t need commentary.
By the time we reached Flores, the air felt heavier with history. And then Tikal ancient, towering, humbling. Temples rising out of jungle, reminding us how small and temporary we are. We walked quietly there, instinctively.
Respectfully. And finally, back to Guatemala City –the circle complete.
In between destinations, the car became its own world.
We played games. I Spy. Silly challenges. Made up rules that changed mid-drive. Sang badly. I had snacks (Daisy isn’t a snacker). That kind of joy –you don’t plan for, that only happens when two people are comfortable enough to be ridiculous together.
There was no romance. No confusion. Just closeness.
The kind of love that doesn’t complicate –it steadies.
A line from Little Miss Sunshine floats back to me now:
“A real loser is someone who’s so afraid of not winning that they don’t even try. “
On that road, we weren’t trying to be anything. We were just there. Together.
Guatemala was beautiful, yes –but what made it memorable was who I experienced it with. Travel, I’ve learned, doesn’t reveal places. It reveals people. And sometimes, it reveals a version of yourself you’d forgotten existed.
That trip stayed with me. Because before everything got heavier, there was laughter on long roads, shared wonder, and the quiet certainty that some connections are meant to last long after the journey ends.
