After completing my second quarter at Fuller and accepting an amazing placement for my practicum site this coming summer, I packed my bags for Honduras. Ben, Elena (my housemates from last year in Macuelizo, Honduras) and I had been planning the trip for a few months and were finally getting ready to board the plane to the place we used to call home. It is difficult to explain the beauty and challenge of going back to Amigos de Jesus, but I shall try my best. Thank you, as always, for your thoughts and prayers for our Amigos de Jesus and me.
How Do I Explain?
…the sweet refreshing plastic cup of Pepsi that I would politely decline in the States but gladly accept the cup of hospitality here that miraculously tastes better.
…the rural quiet sprinkled with crickets chirping, stars shining, sharp blades of grass moistening my toes, a rooster cock-a-doodling before the sun has even begun to emerge from the mountains.
…the gentle hugs that linger around my waist, not wanting to let go, accompanied by a smile and round, brown ojos.
… the one who stole my heart, asked that I be his madrina, reminded me that I cradled his head while being baptized, recalled the day we first met and he snuggled into my side, both of us unsure what Amigos de Jesus had in store for our futures.
…the joy of hearing full English sentences where Spanish is king, of watching them listen intently while reading a new story about monkeys.
… the small hands that disappear in mine while we stand beneath the same sky, praising God for his blessings, hearing child after child offer thanks for Mr. Ben, Ms. Elena, and Ms. Karena, receiving countless hugs before trekking back to bed.
…the normalcy of being back in this foreign land; craving the taste of simplicity and wanting to be reminded of the current luxuries I am afforded.
… the tears that fall as I return to LAX; lagrimas of sadness, joy, gratitude, conviction. Not tears wishing I were still in Honduras, but wishing that I would hold onto that self and carry it with me in Los Angeles.