I took no photographs after Tobago and so I have little extended memory save for the clues that others' photos can provide. Our last full day in Trinidad was spent at the house and out visiting family, saying our goodbyes, and preparing for the return trip home.

Come the following day, after an all-too-short two weeks, our stay in the beautiful country of Trinidad and Tobago was spent. It was time to return home. I would bring with me a few points of memorabilia: the miniature flag, a tradition I would continue in future travels; my very own calabash purse, which my mother bought from a neighbor who had hand-carved it; a new taste for some much-loved flavors of the Caribbean; and hundreds of photos and countless memories.

Unlike our convoluted tangle of flights down, the return trip was a direct flight from Trinidad to Houston, which passed quickly. On our way home from the airport, we decided to stop at Los Cucos, a Tex-Mex restaurant chain, to conclude and celebrate our experience together. We parked, got out of the truck, and stood in the parking lot, the heat visibly rising off of the sunbaked pavement. I had spent two weeks largely without the luxury of air conditioning on humid, tropical Caribbean islands, seemingly perpetually covered in a film of sweat, but as I stood in that lot under the Texas sun, I remember thinking to myself, "Oh, wow, I guess it really is hotter here." I would never take air conditioning for granted again.

After our meal, we went our separate ways. Later that evening, exhausted from the journey and unable to stay awake any longer, I dozed off. I'm told that even in that semi-conscious state, as I was gradually pulled deeper into sleep, I couldn't help but excitedly mumble half-coherent tales of the birds I had seen in Arima Valley, immaculate jewels in a sea of green on a now faraway island in the Caribbean.