Last night we said goodbye Thomas. An impromptu acoustic singalong occurred in our room after dinner.... one guitar, seven of us circled around, singing along with lyrics, the final sips of wine and a candle slowly burning away. Singing along to Oasis, Wonderwall, Damien Rice and Hallelujah .... with small bits of laughter, only to suppress the emotional reality that we have only two weeks left together...
Taking the bus home Sunday, I was looking out the window at the Lake and took a deep breath. In my mind I was heading home and the home I was referring to was Pena Blanca.... Almost ten months have passed and its hard to even imagine life some place else.
Wednesday while hiking in the rain with Matt and Lotte, Matt held out his arms wide as the rain drops poured. I could not help but think that is exactly how I feel. Arms stretched wide, trying to soak in every last bit of what is left. Experience everything. I am overwhelmed looking back at the past year and I cannot imagine having gone my life without this being apart of my story.
I must admit I am a bit afraid to go home. Excited? Absolutely. Perhaps more nervous because I feel so different. And I know that things will look the same when I get back. Very little will have changed yet I come back someone new.
Of course there are more weddings on deck, more babies due, more houses purchased, more graduations that have happened. ....My car will start back up again. My things will be moved out of storage. Pictures will hang back on the walls. But the me that returns is not the same.
If I was honest I am afraid of how quickly it will wear off and how quickly I will get tired of it all. Get tired of the stuff, the bills, the things that seem like tragedies which are merely hiccups to the heartbreak here. Afraid of how much my heart will be left here.
Of course there are more weddings on deck, more babies due, more houses purchased, more graduations that have happened. ....My car will start back up again. My things will be moved out of storage. Pictures will hang back on the walls. But the me that returns is not the same.
If I was honest I am afraid of how quickly it will wear off and how quickly I will get tired of it all. Get tired of the stuff, the bills, the things that seem like tragedies which are merely hiccups to the heartbreak here. Afraid of how much my heart will be left here.
I know I will think of the sweet faces, the big brown eyes, the long eye lashes, and the shouting of "Miss". I will long for the days of stinky hot kids running in from recess. Long for the nights spent in the dark with my roommates because the power has gone out yet again.
How long ago it was that we hiked to the waterfalls and ran to the bus in the pouring rain. How many nights we spent while Matt crashed in one of the girls beds. The countless family dinners. The mouse sitings, sunbathing, traveling......
How foreign this place felt and how normal it seems now.......
How foreign this place felt and how normal it seems now.......
“Adventure is a path. Real adventure – self-determined, self-motivated, often risky – forces you to have firsthand encounters with the world. The world the way it is, not the way you imagine it. Your body will collide with the earth and you will bear witness. In this way you will be compelled to grapple with the limitless kindness and bottomless cruelty of humankind – and perhaps realize that you yourself are capable of both. This will change you. Nothing will ever again be black-and-white.” – Mark Jenkins
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