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Where is the House I left Behind?

Arrived yesterday at approximately 5.27 pm at my site in Morazan. I jumped off the bus, watched the cobrador drop my 2 backpacks into a puddle of mud as I opened the fence to my house and sighed as the bus drove off into the distance. 3 weeks I was away for training. Do you know what happens in 3 weeks? Scorpions come out from the woodwork and successfully place themselves in unsuspecting areas so that just when you turn the page of a suspenseful book you look up and gasp in horror at a stinger and two claw- like appendages in your face. Spiders create an obstacle course of webs stretching from doorway to window to refrigerator to chairs so that by the time you have walked through 17 and swallowed a couple pieces more, you have stopped noticing they are there. Clothes mold. Flip flops. Pillows. A stove burner (I didn’t know that was possible). Towels. Tables. Everything grows fungus. Dust coats everything so that you feel like your house has been abandoned for years. Swarms of mosquitoes make it impossible to use the latrine without getting bitten at least 3 times on the most difficult part of your body to scratch in public. Your pila grows green algae and larvae, requiring you to clean it thoroughly with bleach in the dark of night so that you have some clean water to wash the mud off your hands from the suitcases…

It is not the same as the lively little house I left behind. It is dirty. It is gloomy. And it is quiet. Barros toys are tossed on the ground. Dirty and smelly but still with his teeth marks. There is no music, since my iPod decided to break after downloading about $200 worth of music and videos. And my friends are not here. After 3 weeks of training, surrounded by other volunteers, and a beautiful weekend at the beach with my friends…. My house is suddenly a very different and unfamiliar place.
Just as quickly as I entered, I left. I walked down the dirt road to Doras house, knowing that her cute little grand children would be sure to cheer me up. And even before I got there, at least 3 families stopped me with bright smiles upon my return. Jaclyns father actually got up from his hammock and walked over to the fence, as opposed to his usual wave to welcome me. Marjorie and Caterine called my name from the hill above my house and I could even make out the smiles of their limited teeth supply in the dark. My dear little Karime road up on her grandpas horse…a 3 year old clinging to his back- picture perfect. We shared stories and hugs at Doras until my yawning become way too uncontrollable to have pleasant conversation any longer…and I headed home. It started pouring and I hoped that the awkwardness of my time gone was being washed away. I pictured the dust, the mold, the spiders and scorpions cleansed away. Barros belongings tied up away in a bag, awaiting a new recipient. And the rain became my new music to lull me asleep. I am ready to start working in my community!

Happy Fathers Day

I took some time to reflect today about my Daddy…I don’t know about your dad, but mine is really talented. He can perfectly remove the stems of strawberries so that alls I have to do is dip them in sugar without worrying about a little leaf sneaking in. He can give horsey rides and play hide and seek better than any 5 year old…even if it means winning by falling asleep in the basement. He can build pools and swing sets, drive motorcycles, boats and planes, cook breakfast and grill steaks. Most importantly, he can always make me laugh. Maybe at times it has come down to the “pull my finger” trick… but he always can. And I miss him a lot today. I love you Dad! Happy Fathers Day.