A day in Denver. One whole day. One last day. Dark thoughts weigh me down, almost more than my 46.5 pound bag as I head for the car. The forecast ahead doesn't look too sunny either. My arrival in Costa Rica is going to be wet and dreary, with scattered thunderstorms. Nevertheless, it will be an adventure.
Our long time family friends, Bart and Barb, are seeing me off leaving their daughter, Audrey, at home to engage in more interesting projects than the imminent end of my brief visit, while Caroline, the youngest of the sisters will accompany us, fond of me as her simple, youthful innocence allows. As we load the car, I realize how much I will miss the last place that felt really safe to me. I will miss the familiar rise and fall of the english language, not quite as melodious as spanish, but comforting in the harsh reality of sharply pronounced b's and p's. I will miss the thin, dry air of the high altitude. But most of all I will miss the people. I do not look forward to saying goodbye to the family that has taken such good care of me. Already, I am starting to long for the gentle chorus of voices, all addressing me or each other at the same time. That is how this family is. They are so attuned to one another's needs that words are simply for my sake. So, speech escapes them simultaneously and my ears are flooded with the fluid hum of family. That I will cling to as I travel far from any family I have ever known.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Little Piglet! So love your honesty about the sadness and fear you had about leaving. I love the courage with which you're pursuing this project - this life transition. We're so proud of you little piglet!
ReplyDelete