Wednesday, June 08, 2005

The Rain, Finally

The rainy season has begun. So far, what this means is a daily thunderstorm, usually in the late afternoon or evening. The timing is usually convenient enough and it is lovely to watch the lighting behind the mountains and fall asleep beneath my mosquito net listening to the thunder and rain. The brown, beaten hills have become fuzzy and green. The dust has settled and Tegus is once again a city appearing suddenly through the mountains, millions of small colored houses like the paper on a piñata. Trees that I never knew existed have sprouted speading, delicate leaves that reach out like glowing fingers. What an appropriate time to feel the dirty, cracked parts of me smoothed and full of life again.

I feel like a change in me has very markedly occurred during the past month. I have gone from being slightly discontented and very homesick to actually liking my life here on the Ranch, in Honduras. (This probably explains my lack of blog entries--not enough to complain about!) What an amazing thing. Before, looking at my next 8 months, I felt like a child sitting in front of a plate of broccoli or a stack of homework--nearly impossible, but required. Now, I am starting to see how much I like it here and how hard it will be to--in 8 months--leave this world that is slowly developing around me.

My mom and brother are coming to visit on Saturday. I am excited to introduce them to the life I have here, the children who feel like my own, the way the big dipper hangs upside down here, how the air smells during the rain. I am excited to hear what they thing about everything, excited to hear them compliment my Spanish, see them hug my kids, have them taste a licuado or a baleada. They will bring suitcases full of things from home: clothes and soap and contact solution. They will arrive tired and dirty and marvel at the chaos of Tegus. The pine trees on the Ranch will remind them of home. They will tell us about the things we miss, about their lives that go on without us. We will be a little sad, but wonderfully happy.

Maybe I am not writing about exciting things, maybe you are bored with me and my haphazard way with words, but I want you to know I am doing well. I am still fumbling with my Spanish, teaching less-than-expertly, not loving everyone how I want to, but I am learning to be happy.

And the rain, finally, has come.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

wow what a wonderful and moving description of your life and Honduras - thanks for sharing your thoughts with us

4:58 PM  
Anonymous Tio said...

Honduras is a magical place. It will become a part of your soul if you let it.

I have spent much time down there and it became my home. I was mostly in Catacamas in Olancho. I am returning soon, this time permanently.

Not to worry about your spanish. There will come a point when it all just sort of "clicks" for you and all of a sudden you will be speaking it and learning it faster than ever. There will come a point when you cannot even remember not being able to speak it.

When you do return stateside you will have a hard time adjusting to the way of life here. You will go into a wal-mart store and try to bargain with them. You will notice that America is not as free as you once thought. You will begin to yearn for a return to that life you had in Honduras.

Would you mind if I placed a link to your blog on my blog? I always like to ask permission before I do so. Feel free to link me back or not if you wish.

2:21 PM  
Anonymous elizabeth said...

Amelia, You are the most beautiful woman I could ever have hoped to know as a friend. Your thoughts are sweet and delicious as usual. Keep it up, eh.

9:23 PM  
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10:10 PM  

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