This is my last blog post as a Peace Corps Volunteer; and so
I say, “Goodbye.” As words of
farewell have passed through my lips this past week, I have felt physically ill
with a loss appetite and general feelings queasiness. Saying goodbye is hard. I am saying goodbye to people, to places, to a way of life…
here are a few of those goodbyes.
My Goodbye to the Children of Lloa
Dear Children of Lloa,
What did you feel as you were walking down the red
carpet? Did you feel like a rock
star? Did you feel as beautiful as
I assure you, you are? Before you
entered the room your wide eyes looked up at me, they seemed to ask, “What is
inside? What is going on?” I smiled at you thrilled by your
wonder; I placed my hand on your shoulder and guided you in. Looking back to where you had been
another one of you looked up with excitement and confusion in your eyes. I guided you through the door as
well. In total, 85 of your quizzical
eyes locked with mine and then passed me by. After all of you had entered the room, I followed in your
steps. Did your steps bounce as
mine did as you walked down the red carpet? I’m left eager with the mystery of knowing what you felt as
18 Peace Corps Trainee’s, other Peace Corps Staff, and members of the community
of Lloa lined the both sides of the carpet and cheered and shouted celebrating
you. This moment had been created
for you and by you. The book you
had helped to write, “Ratoncita Sisa,” did you realize finally the significance
of your efforts. You were an author;
you were an illustrator of a beautiful story.
Each of you sat
in your seat, you watched a movie of the creation of your story, you stood up
and presented a summary of the book, you walked across the stage and I handed
you your book and a cupcake, you came back on the stage to say thank you to me,
and I stood up and said thank you to you.
In the chaos of moving here to there, in your chatter and shifting in
your seat, in your heart felt words to me, in all of this you gave me one more
opportunity to be with you and to appreciate all that you are; each one of you
so beautiful and unique. 
In my thank you to you I told you how like Sisa the little
mouse (the main character in our story) you did not need to eat a magic wedge
of cheese to be able to accomplish your dreams, the magic to make that happen
already existed inside of you. I
told you that I would carry the memory of each of you in my heart forever. I told you how I was leaving now, to
become a teacher. But what I could
not express through words in a way you could understand was how standing before
you in that moment there was so much more to the person that I was because of
your presence in my life. You
revealed to me a part of myself, the part of me destine to be with you, destine
to be a teacher. To influence the
transformations of your smiles and your discoveries, to guide you down the path
to realize your own beauty. You
showed me that moments like those are the reason I am here; you have shown me
my path to my truest happiness.
Every student I work with for the rest of my life will remind me of you,
everyday for the rest of my life I will carry you with me.
Thank you my little friends.
(Here is the video of the making of the story, "Sisa the Little Mouse," that my PC friend, Ryan Rodriguez made to play at the event.)
My Goodbye to the Mountains and Clouds
Dear Mountains and Clouds,
There has not been a moment in the past two years where you
have ceased to amaze me. To the
mountains, I have written so many words trying to describe you. I have described you as the topping to
a lemon meringue pie, for it seems as if someone took a spatula and
artistically twirled your folds, peaks, and valleys into place and I have to
say, to my eyes you are delicious.
I have described you as a vibrant green ocean, your waves of green
rising high and unforgiving as if you where frozen into place within the
fiercest of storms. I have
described you as quilt, patchwork shades of vibrant green draped in perfect
angles here and there.
To the clouds you make me anxious. Excitement rises in my every day as you creep toward
me. You ooze, tumble, and stampede
in eerily slow speed toward me like a massive herd of divine horses. Closer and closer you come from the
moment I open my eyes until… I am in your belly and you have consumed me. Clouds, I have to complain, your belly
is cold. You vale the mountains
from my view and you leave my hands and feet begging for warmth. But I will take the cold in return to
sit witness of your chemistry with the mountains. How many bus rides have I been on from Quito to Lloa? Too many to count, but still each ride I get excited for the moment I reach the ridgeline and can look upon your dance, mountains and clouds. Going home to New England we have mountains, we have clouds… but not like you. Skyscrapers are built and planes fly high, but nothing will replace the magnificence of living with you. Your dramatic presence humbles and inspires… I will miss you Lloa. I will miss so much. I will miss waking up and dedicating my entire day to marvel at your beauty. Mountains and clouds you have changed me. You are a picture and a feeling I will hold dear within me forever.
When I left my bedroom window with my bags packed to travel
I cried and I cried knowing I was leaving you.
My Goodbye to Mayra
Dear Mayra,
Culturally and individually we all create our own concepts
of beauty. To me that which is
beautiful is not something I see, but rather feel inside. You Mayra are my beacon, my example of
what it feels like to be in the proximity of the purest of beauties. Throughout my life this feeling will
remain cemented to my soul and act as a lighthouse watching over the rocky
shore where my life and the rest of the world collide. You Mayra are the light I will look to
through the fog of chaos that life sometimes throws my way.
As I hugged you goodbye I marveled as I have from the moment
I met you at all the harsh realities that have tore through your life. Abuse from your father, your siblings
were taken away to an orphanage, some psychologist handed you a paper which
stated you have retardation, another doctor told you of a disease in your
lungs. Through it all Mayra you
continue on, you greet the day as the day before with a smile. Mayra, you are good at hiding your
emotions, and so I know it was a big gift from you to me when you whisper in my
ear as we loosened our arms from our final embrace, “te quiero.” I love you too my beautiful Mayra.
And so Mayra, I leave you with this book, this story I
wrote about my life and how you have impacted the person I am. Through the words and pictures I hope
you can see how special you are, especially to me.
Follow the link to Mayra's story: http://www.blurb.com/books/5268549-lessons-from-my-beating-heart
Follow the link to Mayra's story: http://www.blurb.com/books/5268549-lessons-from-my-beating-heart
My Goodbye to You
Finally I say goodbye to this blog, and if you are reading
this, then that includes you. I
didn’t know what this blog was going to be, but it has turned out to be an
adventure in and of itself. I do
not remember very many literary rules or this and that about writing… but this
blog has given me an opportunity to play with words. Thank you for reading it and thank you for inspiring me to
want to write more. I don’t know
who reads this, but if you have maybe you will send me a note… it would be nice
to know who has been friends to these words.
If you’ve kept up with this blog you know that this
experience has not been easy. The
Peace Corps slogan captures it perfectly… “The hardest job you’ll ever
love.” Throughout this experience
I often asked myself, why the heck did I sign up for this… this is horrible. Sometimes I blamed it on other
people. I would tell myself, I am
doing it for all the people who care for me and who I felt were vicariously
living through me in a way. In the
end I know this to be a lie. I did
this for myself. I did this for
the kids of Lloa, my host family, and for the opportunity to meet people like
Diana my Spanish tutor and now one of my closet friends.
There is always more to learn and more to reach for… I have
learned of the longevity of my reach, I have learned of the power of perseverance
and what happens within you when you pull yourself out of feelings of
insignificance and don’t give up.
Through this experience I have grown stronger, but also feel smaller
having expanded my view to the immensity of the world.
I felt confident in the person that I was, coming into this
experience, but that confidence was shattered quickly upon arrival to Lloa. Throughout these two years I have
rebuilt myself. I now feel that
same confidence inside me, I rebuilt myself to be exactly who I was, but now
through the context of a different landscape and a different culture.
So, “Door in the Wind,” maybe this blog has unfolded for you
as an interesting kind of story wound by the hand of some writers dream. Or maybe it has done as I set out to do
and shared with you a little bit about the culture of Ecuador. For me this blog has tried to put words
to my life in Lloa, a place that now exists in my spirit and soul.
And now, here at the end I know confidently that Lloa will
always remain in the strength of my drifting thoughts and humbled steps. A beautiful land where dreams are
born, where I met beautiful Mayra, where I sat in the clouds on the side of
a mountain, where there lives a little mouse named Sisa, where there exists a
room where I hit my lowest lows and highest bouts of inspiration, my beautiful Lloa,
the treasure beyond the door in the wind.
