Un Año, Pero Lleno

Even the locally-grown, gourmet coffee I purchased
the day before was stolen that night, so you know
I'm not joking when I tell you it was rough. 

One year ago tonight, things changed quite a bit for me in my journey in Costa Rica with the Peace Corps. 
Waking up to an empty apartment and the sobering discovery that virtually all of my personal possessions had been stolen while I slept in my bed will always be one of my most difficult memories. The flood of emotions that swept through me - fear for my personal security, despair for the loss of material items, anger toward the guilty person(s), and failure in my role as a volunteer in my community - tossed and turned inside me for what seemed like an eternity. 
In the hours and days that followed, however, I began to realize the stellar quality of the people I had around me. My neighboring volunteers, numerous office staff members, and a few wonderful host country nationals rallied around me and offered some pretty outstanding support in my process of starting over. 
It would be a sisyphean task to try and depict the twists and turns of the following twelve months. So many changes unfolded as I worked to reset my trajectory: A new site, a new community, a new region, a new host family, a new local development association, new documentation, and many other intricate adjustments were required in the new undertaking. It would be some time before I felt even a shred of what we call normalcy.

My site change landed me
back in San José's backyard

Despite all the tumult of those days, I still say - with no hesitation whatsoever - that I look back on the overall outcome with a broad smile across my face. One of those ear-to-ear jobs. I landed in a very special place in El Llano, working with motivated individuals and groups, living with a tender and caring host family, and I ended my two years of service on what I think was the highest note possible. 

Sonia Mora Bermudez, my host mom in my
second site. She's one of the best people I've met. 

The experience absolutely led me to consider extending my time here in Costa Rica with the Peace Corps, and it surely influenced my decision to apply for the Regional Leader position - a role I'm very much so enjoying these days. 

My newest family: PCCR's Regional Leaders along
with our wonderful coordinator, Mónica Salas

Bottom line: I'm not here to deny that life comes with enormous challenges; no one could ever claim such nonsense. Life is hard, and then you become an adult. Rather, I'd simply like to reach into my own tattered bag of life experience and pull out a glimmer of hope for you. If you find yourself in the midst of some considerably trying times, press forward. Press forward with as much positivity as you and your support network can muster, and I promise you it will end up for the better. 
Learn from everything, and you'll always come out on top. 

Love y'all.

Siempre Esperando

< sigh >

You were probably just as exhausted from 2016 as I was around 11:30pm on December 31st. Amid all the horrific headlines, ridiculous memes, and news of celebrity deaths, it was a pretty tough year for a lot of people. I count myself among those affected by the throes of the previous 12 months.

Among many things, I...

• Moved to Costa Rica (in case you missed that)
• Endured 3 months of PCCR training
• Met some of the most amazing people in this world
• Ate cow tongue
• Ate cow tail
• Went to my first international soccer game
• Fell in and out of love
• Became a cat person (RIP sweet Molly)
• Survived my first earthquake
• Endured Costa Rica's first hurricane in over 100 years
• Rang in the 2017 with some of my Tico 31 fam

Puerto Viejo w/Dan, Tory, & Joe - 3 of the best folks I know.

One of the many, many other things that took place over 2016 was an uptick in my Spanish-speaking abilities. Combined with 3 months of language lessons during training, immersion in my site has gone a very long way in helping me sharpen my español. There are so many things I've learned about this beautiful language that I never, ever knew before coming here, and that's what I want to write about here. 

Not pictured: +/- 2,500 people and every star
known to mankind showing up just in time
for midnight on New Year's Eve.

As I stood on the beach in Puerto Viejo to ring in the new year among so many other anxious souls, I found my thoughts drifting to one simple Spanish phrase: Siempre Esperando. I've only now begun to fully understand the impact of it. See, I thought for the longest time that the word siempre only ever translated to "always." As it turns out, it can also be used to mean "still" - as in an ongoing action. I also thought that the verb esperar - especially in its progressive form esperando - always translated to "to wait/waiting" or "to wait for/waiting for," but I've learned that it can also mean "to hope/hoping." 

So, feeling the sand between my toes and the cool water from the Caribbean flow over and around my feet, I stared up at the stars - nostalgic as ever - and considered the enormous difference between both compound phrases made by those two words.

Siempre esperando... 

That night, looking back on 2016, I could have easily classified myself as still waiting. With everything that transpired over the last 12 months, I could have thrown myself into that category and said that I was still waiting for some specific things / outcomes / results / answers from last year - in other words, still waiting for some shadow of what I thought might've been. Perhaps it was a project that didn't unfold the way I expected. Or maybe it was a friendship or a relationship that turned out a little differently from how I'd planned. There were more than a few things that simply didn't go the way I'd foreseen, so one could make the argument that on that beach that night I was still waiting for something - anything - to give meaning or purpose to any number of the wild events of 2016. 

Then again, I considered, maybe I can take that small but crucial step that we're so wont to do and yet often fail in our attempts to accomplish: to look ahead. And so the other side of the concept behind siempre esperando could be always hoping, That is to say that, in spite of all the perceived negativity from last year's 366 days of ebb and flow (yes, it was a leap year), maybe I can say that I'll always hope for what is to come.

What an incredible difference between the two potential translations. 

[Just to clarify, I believe it's 100% okay to wait for some things. I feel most folks would agree that it all depends on what or who you're still waiting for, but there's nothing wrong with holding out for something good. That said, in some cases it's wise to simply let go and move forward - always hoping for something better.]

Wherever you find yourself as you embark on this new year, know that you're right where you're supposed to be. Whether you find yourself looking over your shoulder still waiting for something, or you've got your eyes on the horizon always hoping for what is yet to come, breathe easy knowing that everything's going to work out just fine.

 ... but if it doesn't, you can always come sit with me on my porch here in San Isidro. You and I will sip good coffee together as we wait until it does.

Pura Vida, my friends.

Changing the World, kind of.

A while back, one of my good friends said something that has been firmly cemented in my mind for years since. Kevin O'Keefe, a fun-loving, free-spirited dude, in all his wisdom once told me, "You don't have to change the world to change someone's world."

I know it probably sounds like a fairly elementary concept, but think about it for a bit. The world is a massive place with nearly seven and a half billion people, and it's understandable for one to scoff at the notion that anything can truly be done to change it. NOTE: Being an INFJ, I still believe it's possible, just a little improbable. 

But this isn't about changing the world; it's about changing someone's world, and that, my friends, is something entirely different. I've heard it said that one of the most valuable abilities is availability, and I couldn't agree more. That's why my heart swells when I think about this journey I'm on at the moment. Peace Corps looked at me and decided I was good enough to be shipped off and live between two volcanoes in Costa Rica among these wonderful people. To integrate among these awesome folks. To be available.

As I've put down roots here in San Isidro, I've identified a number of unique individuals I believe will be involved in the process of improving this community. One of those is my host dad, Oscar. The bond that he and I have forged over no more than 45 days is extraordinary. Although we both struggle at times to understand each other's native tongue, we more than make up for that with our body language, often laughing to the point of tears at the simplest of gesticulations. He has become one of my favorite people here in my new host community, and this post is really about him.

You know how we do.

One of the first things Oscar told me during my site visit back in early May was that he desperately wanted to learn English. I gave him the typical nod, having grown accustomed to the notion that pretty much everybody here wants to learn it. What I didn't know at the time was the level to which he was willing to go to learn. His attitude toward studying is remarkable. On top of working 40-50 hours a week in manual labor/construction/home repair, he eats up every single bit of English he can. This past Wednesday night, we had our big placement testing for all the people who'd signed up for community English classes. In order to thin the herd a bit, I offered those tests to my host family members early, and Oscar took his written and oral tests the night before. Trying to make it a light-hearted moment, I mentioned his "Con queso o carne" comment from a few weeks ago, but ohhhhhhh man he was having none of that. You should've seen his face. He was dead serious about that test. He was also super eager to get his score back; the moment he did, he sat down at the desk in our living room to revise his errors. Over the next few hours, he popped his head into my room to ask me question after question about his mistakes, citing that he wanted to "learn very well from them." This has continued for a few days since.

Candid shot! Oscar studying his test results. 

His desire to learn humbles me more than I can adequately describe. Question after question, word after word, he has consistently come back to check on how he can improve his English skills. For a man who is super proud of his work - he built the house in which we live - he sure does exhibit an amazing amount of humility in his efforts to learn this new tongue. I don't know what his plans are for his soon-to-be-mastered second language, but I'm honored to be a part of that process.

For me, San Isidro represents a place overflowing with potential. I could, by the end of my time here, help build a gymnasium, remodel the local soccer field, organize a long list of committees to help increase community action, start a recycling program, plant a community garden, teach every person English, lead a neighborhood conservation charge, work with every business owner in the entire community, and so many other worthwhile projects. In the end, though, no matter how these two years of service go, I know I'm not going to change the world.

But I sure can try to change someone's world.

La Esquina

Saturday afternoon, on the return bus ride following my weekend visit to San Jose, I looked up from my book and noticed a little girl sitting in front of me - maybe all of two years old - staring out the window. The look of awe in her eyes caught my attention, and I noticed her mouthing something over and over. I took out my earplugs to listen. She was whispering "hola. hola. hola." over and over again as people, cars, houses, trees, mountains, and life Itself passed by her two precious, little eyes.  The smile on her face rose and fell with each greeting, as if learning the beauty of new things all over again from moment to moment.

It set me to thinking about how I've come to be where I am. I recall the day I pulled up the Peace Corps website, Tuesday, February 24, 2015. One of my dear friends was telling me about her own application process and, for the first time, I considered the notion of being in the PC. I confess that, at the time, I imagined them as nothing more than the people who shove flowers up rifle barrels; however, I have come to find they are so much more than that. They truly are a force for good in this world. 

Not Pictured: Peace Corps

But this post stretches back much further than last year. No, to understand this process, I have to take you back to June of 2007, a full nine years ago. I was dating a young lady whose church small group wanted to take a mission trip to Costa Rica. I was surprised to get a call asking if I'd consider joining them. They justified it by saying they needed help with a soccer camp and another Spanish-speaking member. I jumped at the chance, even though my Spanish was very limited in those days. So we spent a good chunk of July in Las Juntas de Abangares in Guanacaste, a cute little former mining colony. During our time in Juntas, I met Gabriel ("Gabo" for short), an 11-year-old local boy with whom I had an instant connection, playing, laughing, joking, and being best buds. I didn't know it at the time, but Gabriel would play a pivotal role in my life. 

That's Gabo on my back!

See, I fell in love with Costa Rica - with Las Juntas, to be more specific - during that trip. So much so that I made a mental note to return. And I did! Thanks to some great support from my awesome friends and family, I was able to head back in December of that same year on my own. I spent some fantastic time with Roberto and his family camping out on the Pacific coast, climbing up Monteverde, and taking in the views at Vulcan Arenal. It was a magical time, and I'm forever grateful to the Barrantes family for their hospitality and everything they did to make this gringo feel at home. As I was dragging my bags up the ramp at the Liberia airport, something happened that would stick with me for years to come. I was in the middle of saying my goodbyes, and in the back of my mind I was wholly unsure as to whether or not I'd ever see these great people again. The goodbye that stuck with me the most was from Gabo. He reached his lanky arms up around my neck, pulled me back down to his level, looked me in the eyes and said, "Regrese a mí, por favor." (Come back to me, please.) Speaking softly, I looked right back in his eyes and promised that one day I would. SIDE NOTE: Would you believe that I get to see Gabo for the first time in almost nine years this weekend? Win!

And so I returned from Costa Rica for the second time in late 2007, and I jumped back into the US lifestyle. College, career, job, relationships, etc. all took precedence over my daydreams of one day returning to this incredible place. There were brief moments when I'd plot a trip, going so far as to have a flight picked out and a couple hundred bucks set aside to book it, but it never materialized. Something always got in the way - classwork, a girlfriend, work, the basic elements of life. So I slowly let the notion of a return trip fade over the next few years. Eventually I graduated college and got a full-time job that allowed me to travel all over the country and a little bit overseas, and places like the Bahamas, Puerto Rico and Uganda supplanted my first foreign love.

While Costa Rica never fully left my heart, there certainly were moments when it was firmly seated in the back row of my mind, but I very clearly remember when that Tico whisper started up again. It was a particularly rainy afternoon in North Topsail Beach, North Carolina, and I was about to wrap up another summer camp and head back to Jacksonville, Florida, for some downtime. There wasn't a specific event that took place; rather, my camp setup mind was working overtime, pondering what potential locations we could add to the list. For whatever reason, as I stared out the office window and listened to the driving rain, Costa Rica resurfaced. After a few days exchanging emails with some Ticos, I was informed of a prospective location no more than a half hour from Las Juntas. 

Eventually everything fell into place for my much-anticipated return to the land of Gallo Pinto. I spent the next few months researching travel tips and building up a network of support with whom I would eventually touch base when I finally arrived for my initial site visit in Guanacaste. Plane tickets were purchased, rental cars were reserved, and I even booked my stay at a nearby cabin, all planned for the end of March 2014.

But there was one problem - I never got on the plane.

Heck, I never made it to the airport. The day before my scheduled return to Costa Rica, I had a very honest conversation with my boss at the time, and I made an enormously difficult decision to do the unthinkable: I resigned from the organization. It was an incredibly emotional decision in the first place, not to mention the fact that I was tossing away the opportunity to revisit those people and places I'd missed for so long. It took a long time to get over those circumstances, but, as is always the case, life moves on.

It wasn't long before I was distracted by something else, this time manifesting itself in the form of creating a brand new organization from scratch. Enter CO | MISSIONS. Funny, even typing that word brings up so many mixed feelings. CO | MISSIONS was a faith-based non-profit missions organization I was asked to start with the backing of a work contact from years before leaving my former job. Although it lasted less than two years from inception to dissolution, there were many dreams. Among those was a direct-trade partnership with a Costa Rican coffee farm, as well as further discussions with the same potential site near Las Juntas. 

Remember this little fellah? Weird, isn't it?

Then the storm came, figuratively speaking. From both internal and external sources, it quickly became nearly impossible to maintain the organization's operations. After a few months of hanging on by what seemed like a thread, I had a very emotionally-charged conversation with the board of directors, confessing to them my feelings of outright exhaustion and an inability to continue on the current path. And so, with a deep breath, I waved goodbye to yet another potential return to Costa Rica, as the board and I agreed that dissolution was the best available option.

Hopefully by now you can see how bizarre the dance is that I've shared with this country for such a long time. Imagine, then, my joy when I received an email in early March informing me that I was, in fact, under consideration for service here in Costa Rica. Visualize the waiting period from early March to the middle of April when my interview was eventually scheduled. Then, take into account all the Spanish and the subsequently required CLEP test, the nearly-insurmountable pile of medical exams and immunizations, and all the little minutiae that had to be done before coming. It was quite the arduous process, finally getting to a point of departure. 

Then came February 23rd. The wheels touched down in San Jose, and I was home. 

There are many ways to look at the last nine years of my life and how certain things have transpired for me to inevitably return to this place. That's the real focus of my attention as I write this piece. Perhaps at this point in your own journey, you're wondering, "What the hell am I doing with my life?" Or maybe you feel, as I so often did, that you have a goal, but it feels so incredibly unattainable and you can't find it in yourself to continue in that direction.

Please, please, please hear me when I say KEEP MOVING. The light is just around the corner, just around la esquina, and oh is it ever worth it. If only I could recount how many times I had resigned to the fact that I just wasn't meant to come back here. I could have stayed in Pensacola, continued on with CO | MISSIONS, or perhaps pursued a career in education. I could have stayed close to home, able to see my family as often as I'd like. I could have stayed in the land of air conditioning, and perhaps met and settled down with a young woman who'd eventually be my wife and a mother to my children. I could've kept all my stuff - my truck, my guitar, etc. - and lived a content life with my things. But I didn't. I wanted to see what was around the corner. 

Here I am, living in Costa Rica, content to look out the window from time to time and quietly whisper 'hola' to all the wonderful people and things that make up my new home.

La Luna

Tonight I had the joy of playing a little fútbol in the yard with my new host family. At one point, I turned to reach the ball behind me and noticed my shadow on the grass. Mind you, it was well past sunset and we were in the yard between two houses. I was caught off guard until I looked around and up at the night sky. There, in all its beauty, hung the moon. Not just any moon, mind you; no, tonight we were treated to a full moon - "La Luna Llena," as they say here. I was awestruck by the light from the moon, and then I was caught up in the notion that, in fact, there was no light from the moon. It's very simply just a reflection.

The sun, sitting some 93 million miles from the surface of the moon, somehow illuminates one entire half of the moon, causing it to, in turn, brighten the night for us here on Earth. This phenomenon blows my mind every single time I ponder it, and tonight was no exception. I also considered how this applies to my own life.

I'm here in San Isidro de Aguas Claras to (hopefully) do great things, and I fully intend on dedicating my next two years to this endeavor; however, I am just one person. What I see unfolding in and around me is far less my own efforts and abilities, but rather the reflection of all the incredible people I've been blessed to meet and know in my lifetime. This post is, very simply put, meant to celebrate those people, and it's been a long time coming.

It starts, as always, with my family.

My mom, Diana, is just wonderful. Despite countless bouts with my stubborn, hard-headed manner, she and I are still as close as ever. She's been with me through virtually every difficult time in my life, and she's always been my biggest fan. I would not be the man I am today without her love, patience, and example. I miss her like crazy!

Momma!

My dad, Harry, is my guru, my go-to, and my sage. He's always got an answer for whatever issue with which I find myself wrestling. Ever since I was a kid, his nickname for me has been "Bud," and I've only recently come to realize that he is, in fact, one of my best friends. The amount of wisdom and guidance he's unconditionally offered me in my life is immeasurable. Without his help, I know in my heart I would not be here serving with the Peace Corps in Costa Rica.

Pops! (War Damn Eagle)

My big sister, Bree, is easily one of my favorite people to have ever existed. There's no way to fully describe the ridiculous nature of our brother-sister-ness; just trust me when I tell you it's a lot of fun being her little bro. She's been through a slough of junk in her lifetime, but you'd never know it to look at her. She's got a smile that would melt the coldest heart. The way she loves her son - my nephew, Aidan - gives me hope to know and understand how to be a parent if one day I'm blessed with children of my own.

Bwinney!

Then you've got all the people who've been crazy enough to call me their friend for a long, long time.

My oldest friend, Mr. Christopher Terrell, is as good as they come. When I was born into this world without a brother, I was offered a wonderful alternative in this guy. From the olden days of solving detective mysteries in the neighborhoods to more recent adventures such as our 3AM bonfire discussions of women, faith, and everything in between, my life wouldn't be complete without the brotherhood I've shared with this guy. His kindness and adoration for his fellow human being lead me to believe his influence on me will only serve to greatly improve my own experience here. That said, I can't wait to see him again, whenever that may be.

Hermanos siempre.

My boo, TC Bodiford. This freaking guy. Who knew when I met him at a recruiting event at my old college we'd be the pair of foolish buddies we are today? The list of inside jokes would stretch from Tijuana to Boston and back again a thousand times over. Recently wedded to his beautiful bride, he seems to be settling into life, but I'll never forget the days of yore when we traveled around the world and all the hilarious and heartfelt moments we shared therein. Truly, TC has left his unique mark on my life, and I'm grateful for his heart and his spirit.

Chowin' hard with my boo in Uganda

My bro from the younger days, Ryan DeLaune, has seen it all with me. From fishing illegally at Scenic Hills Golf Course to discovering the hard way what a tonsil is, we laughed and cried our way through adolescence together, and I'm thankful for the example he set and still sets for me. He's neck-deep in ministry alongside his wife Rachel, and they're blessed with a beautiful daughter, Emmaline. At times I can hear Ryan's fun-filled spirit echoing through my own laughter, and I think on what his own life has meant to mine.

Sipsey 2006 with Ryan!

My northern br'h, PJ Tiemeyer, the king of Extroversion. If you ever wanna see something funny, throw the two of us in a car and send us on a country-wide, week-long road trip. I have no idea how to even approach an accurate description of our friendship; all I know is that PJ often times represents everything I'm not, and I actually really dig that. We balance each other out. I'm single and living in a foreign country, while PJ is married with three kids and lives and works in the same city in which he was born. There are so many good things about both of our lives, and it's pure fun to heed the differences that exist between us. I feel like we both take a measure of joy from the contrary nature of each other's lives.

PJ and family, from my last visit up to Michigan!

My main squeeze, Saro Azizian, who really does kind of seem like me in an Armenian body. I do wish I could grow a beard like he can, though. Saro and I have been friends since around 2000, maybe a little longer, but what's important is his big-brother influence on my life. Countless times I've vented to him about some pithy issue I'm struggling with, and he always seems to start out with the same phrase: "Well, I'm not gonna tell you how to live your life, but..." and then comes the wise way in which I should live my life. During the days leading up to my departure for service, Saro carved out some time and made a special trip to visit me down in Pensacola, and he helped - perhaps more than he realize(d) - to set my heart at ease in the face of a two-year commitment to serve with the Peace Corps. I'm so happy to have him in my life.

Me, PJ, Saro the Dude, and Chris
enjoying some good ol' Krispy Kreme donuts

Then there are all of the people who I've met since this Peace Corps journey started. First there's Mr. Edwin Lugo, or Mr. Ed for short. If you'd asked me back in April of last year what kind of Spanish practice I would have before coming to Costa Rica, I would have probably told you I'll read a textbook or fiddle about with Duolingo or some other app a few times a week, at best. All that changed back in May of last year when I walked into Ed's office. I was only looking for some help with my current insurance policy. Little did I know I was about to meet one of the biggest sources of encouragement prior to my departure. It started innocently enough: after wrapping up my quick review of my policy, Ed cordially asked if there was anything else he could do to help me. Having detected his Latino accent (as if it was that hard to hear... Haha), I took a second or two to ponder what I wanted to say next. I sheepishly asked if he'd ever possibly consider helping me sharpen my Spanish skills. To my great surprise, he agreed, and we started meeting that same week. Every, single week we met after that, from May to the following February, with Ed faithfully showing up every time to sit with me an hour or two at a time and patiently suffer through my gringo misunderstanding of his native tongue. He was and is so much more than a Spanish tutor; he has become my friend. I know in the deepest part of my heart that his willingness to dedicate a huge part of his time to helping me has and will continue to permeate throughout this community. If you're reading this, Ed, thank you. You're incredible.

Stately, as always.

My Language/Culture Facilitators, don Armando and Elena, have most definitely played a massive role in my integration process into this beautiful country. Despite my introversion and shyness, they both succeeded, in their own ways, in pulling me out of my comfort zone with patience and understanding. They made Spanish make sense, and through my experience with my training community host family and what's transpired so far here in Aguas Claras, I can see how much of an influence they've both had on my language abilities. I'm super thankful for their efforts, de fijo.

Host sister and mom w/Armando!

Spanish class w/our teacher, Elena!

Speaking of my training community host family, I learned so much about Tico culture from Doña Elsa, her daughter/my host sister Melissa, and the rest of their wonderful family (Marvin, Raquel, Elena, Josue, Hansel, and Robert... whew.). Although I only got to spend three months with them, the impact they had on my life is and always will be a part of who I am. It blows my mind to consider how much change occurred in my heart and my mind over those twelve weeks in that house. We laughed, we cried, we danced, and we shared our lives with one another. I will visit them, and I will visit them often. They were and will forever be my first Tico family.

My training community host mom, Doña Elsa!

Then there's my CED program team, don Luis, Vinyela, and Evelyn. These guys. Oh man, where do I even start? From Vinyela's hilarious teaching antics to don Luis' vibrant morning greetings, these folks made our Tech classes a blast. I learned so much from them, not just about how CED works within the confines of Peace Corps, but also how it interlaces with life here in Costa Rica. Day in and day out, this team was vigilant in teaching our group the best known practices to not only work with the community but to become part of it, and I've already seen a lot of the lessons they shared with us play out into my new life here in Aguas Claras.

Shenanigans, I tell you.

Of course I'd be remiss if I didn't mention my own Peace Corps group, Tico 31. This group of complete strangers in February has rapidly become my family. From late night dance parties and frolicking on the beach in Manuel Antonio to sweating my soul away in Puerto Jiménez with my Tech-week buddies, the twelve weeks of training would have been nothing without this special crew. It's an absolute honor to be a part of this group, and, as I took part in the swearing-in ceremony on Wednesday, I was so proud of what we represent. As we parted ways the next day, I took account of all the incredible relationships I've been blessed to cultivate with so many from this group, and, while it's bittersweet to say goodbye, I know that we're all going on to so many great things. I can't wait to hear how everything unfolds for each of us.

Tico 31 CED!

There will undoubtedly be more people to add to this list as time marches on, but for now, these folks are the ones to whom I'd like to give thanks. Without your love, patience, guidance, wisdom, and joy, I would be lost in this place; however, because each of you has shared a little bit of yourself with me, I promise I'm going to try and reflect it in this community over these next two years.

Here's to shining bright.