Y algo golpeaba en mi alama, fiebre o alas perdidas
These days I will do just about anything for a bit of peace and a cup of hot chocolate. The places I am finding peace lately are unlike any of the places I usually search:
on crowded streets while zig zagging people and dogs in a whirlwind morning run,
the routine of tying back my lace curtains one by one as the sun comes up with the creak of the sleepy windows opening for me,
the moment I lower myself to one more push up amid Shanti's commands to "dig deeper" so I do,
Mama Tica scolding me not to do the dishes while lovingly pulling me in to kiss my cheek,
Angel asking me to walk by her side at night - the squeeze of her hand asking for mine in return,
Sofie's strength in her hugs when I come home reduced to tears by a day,
many mid afternoon and late night cups of tea,
John's sweatshirt that hits my knees while Harold sits in my arms - both have traveled so far with me.
(Written a few days ago) I am finding peace right now, here on this twin bed with my best friend. Greta and I are kindred spirits on the sidewalk, bundled up in the 66 degree San Jose night, trading "Que frio!" with every step and laughing with our hot chocolate wrapped between both hands. We are little girls under the big sky.
She has saved me much, and to her I owe the world. It's her sweat dripping to the floor next to mine - proud testaments to the work out that has left our muscles shaking and our conversation coming in pants. I could not do it without her. It is the way she can read my exact thoughts with a single glance and offer me a conspirator smile of adventure or the solace of understanding eyes. It is not forced. We can ride on buses for hours with conversation rolling gently between us or we can walk the city for kilometers exchanging only small expressions, unafraid of the comfortable silence. We have cried to, with and for each other. Oh how we have cried. But oh how we have laughed, knees hitting the floor, clutching our sides, bent over to the bed kind of laughter. Her heart gives mine new life. And the best part is that she is so beautifully unaware of how incredibly generous, good and true it is. But I have made a vow that I will always be there to remind her. When I need something, a shoulder, a funny video, strong words or even just a lollipop, she's just there with hands full to share and heart empty from giving. Friendship, she just does. I didn't even have to tell her to call me "Hal" - she just did.
"And oh the songs people sing for home, and for the ones that have been gone for too long, and oh the things people do for the ones that they love."
The pen feels heavy in my hand today. I have 10 days left in Costa Rica, and yet I remember my first night here with 120 days standing before me. It is a surreal thing to study abroad. It is the most inspiring of paradoxes to put your life so perfectly on pause yet to finally begin to live it.
I do not want to leave. I said it, and it's true. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew this truth would grow. It has been long traveling on the back road to my heart. I look at Costa Rica on maps, trace its familiar outlines, its 7 provinces, especially the one there in the center, the one I have made my home. I see the star of San Jose and all the many nights made memorable by its light. On maps I can see the scale of inches - that they represent miles seems almost as surreal as the fact that in 10 days my feet will lead me through the Columbia airport.
My hair is now longer, my cheeks are blushes by the secrets of the sun, my skin my scrapbook and the scars are snapshots: a brilliant running fall on the San Jose sidewalks, the strength of seaside tree bark in Puerto Viejo, the liquored laughter of pride and barnacles and the limp that came with morning. That two inch line across my foot still feels like adventure & the sand of Panama when I run my finger across its memory.
I have ridden many miles in buses, seen roads cleared of trees by the slow hacks of a machete, I have eaten cocoa straight from the rainforest, I have surfed myself sore in the Pacific before standing in awe of the most incredible sunset of my life, I have laughed with locals as the water of natural hot springs left us light and equally human in the magic of dusk, I have lit candles under Mother Mary's warm face and felt the comfort of kneeling before something more powerful in Catholic churches with my past pulling at my heart.
I have run fast and fearless down midnight streets and shorelines with concern behind me, the future ahead and friendship by my side. I have snuck through a creaky door with my boots in my hands and my 5am hiccups falling foolishly into daybreak. I have sat at a table long after cleared plates just to have my Mama Tica fill our glasses with conversation and I could not have enough. I will never tire of the lilt of her voice or the lines of her smiling eyes. I have fought ice in my lungs to swim under the power of a 130ft waterfall. I have stood silent and small beneath boundless stars, some shooting over the ocean with my dreams on their tails. I have toasted with wine glasses full of Guaro to the friendship of hostel company and the jokes of board games.
I have spent morning classes playing games and exploring Youtube with classmates - looking through the windows you would see the small children lingering in our souls, freed by these mothering professors: a sisterhood of saints.
I have swung into the ocean in my underwear - a promise is a promise here, and the fulfillment of your word is the most beautiful thing you can wear. I have given directions to strangers in my neighborhood, felt the spanish confident on my tongue and pride in my open hands gesturing to the roads that lead me home. I have been so welcomed into conversations with taxistas that I am almost sad when the meter comes to a halt. And then there is the night I shared the backseat with two best friends, comfortably surrounded by our unified voices in the night as we sang every word of Bohemian Rhapsody with the radio. I can still see the driver's eyes in the rearview, his rolling laughter encouraging us to be young and unafraid.
There was a girl in the mirror who waited for years to be found.
Fulfillment came knocking the very morning I lost her.
on crowded streets while zig zagging people and dogs in a whirlwind morning run,
the routine of tying back my lace curtains one by one as the sun comes up with the creak of the sleepy windows opening for me,
the moment I lower myself to one more push up amid Shanti's commands to "dig deeper" so I do,
Mama Tica scolding me not to do the dishes while lovingly pulling me in to kiss my cheek,
Angel asking me to walk by her side at night - the squeeze of her hand asking for mine in return,
Sofie's strength in her hugs when I come home reduced to tears by a day,
many mid afternoon and late night cups of tea,
John's sweatshirt that hits my knees while Harold sits in my arms - both have traveled so far with me.
(Written a few days ago) I am finding peace right now, here on this twin bed with my best friend. Greta and I are kindred spirits on the sidewalk, bundled up in the 66 degree San Jose night, trading "Que frio!" with every step and laughing with our hot chocolate wrapped between both hands. We are little girls under the big sky.
She has saved me much, and to her I owe the world. It's her sweat dripping to the floor next to mine - proud testaments to the work out that has left our muscles shaking and our conversation coming in pants. I could not do it without her. It is the way she can read my exact thoughts with a single glance and offer me a conspirator smile of adventure or the solace of understanding eyes. It is not forced. We can ride on buses for hours with conversation rolling gently between us or we can walk the city for kilometers exchanging only small expressions, unafraid of the comfortable silence. We have cried to, with and for each other. Oh how we have cried. But oh how we have laughed, knees hitting the floor, clutching our sides, bent over to the bed kind of laughter. Her heart gives mine new life. And the best part is that she is so beautifully unaware of how incredibly generous, good and true it is. But I have made a vow that I will always be there to remind her. When I need something, a shoulder, a funny video, strong words or even just a lollipop, she's just there with hands full to share and heart empty from giving. Friendship, she just does. I didn't even have to tell her to call me "Hal" - she just did.
"And oh the songs people sing for home, and for the ones that have been gone for too long, and oh the things people do for the ones that they love."
The pen feels heavy in my hand today. I have 10 days left in Costa Rica, and yet I remember my first night here with 120 days standing before me. It is a surreal thing to study abroad. It is the most inspiring of paradoxes to put your life so perfectly on pause yet to finally begin to live it.
I do not want to leave. I said it, and it's true. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew this truth would grow. It has been long traveling on the back road to my heart. I look at Costa Rica on maps, trace its familiar outlines, its 7 provinces, especially the one there in the center, the one I have made my home. I see the star of San Jose and all the many nights made memorable by its light. On maps I can see the scale of inches - that they represent miles seems almost as surreal as the fact that in 10 days my feet will lead me through the Columbia airport.
My hair is now longer, my cheeks are blushes by the secrets of the sun, my skin my scrapbook and the scars are snapshots: a brilliant running fall on the San Jose sidewalks, the strength of seaside tree bark in Puerto Viejo, the liquored laughter of pride and barnacles and the limp that came with morning. That two inch line across my foot still feels like adventure & the sand of Panama when I run my finger across its memory.
I have ridden many miles in buses, seen roads cleared of trees by the slow hacks of a machete, I have eaten cocoa straight from the rainforest, I have surfed myself sore in the Pacific before standing in awe of the most incredible sunset of my life, I have laughed with locals as the water of natural hot springs left us light and equally human in the magic of dusk, I have lit candles under Mother Mary's warm face and felt the comfort of kneeling before something more powerful in Catholic churches with my past pulling at my heart.
I have run fast and fearless down midnight streets and shorelines with concern behind me, the future ahead and friendship by my side. I have snuck through a creaky door with my boots in my hands and my 5am hiccups falling foolishly into daybreak. I have sat at a table long after cleared plates just to have my Mama Tica fill our glasses with conversation and I could not have enough. I will never tire of the lilt of her voice or the lines of her smiling eyes. I have fought ice in my lungs to swim under the power of a 130ft waterfall. I have stood silent and small beneath boundless stars, some shooting over the ocean with my dreams on their tails. I have toasted with wine glasses full of Guaro to the friendship of hostel company and the jokes of board games.
I have spent morning classes playing games and exploring Youtube with classmates - looking through the windows you would see the small children lingering in our souls, freed by these mothering professors: a sisterhood of saints.
I have swung into the ocean in my underwear - a promise is a promise here, and the fulfillment of your word is the most beautiful thing you can wear. I have given directions to strangers in my neighborhood, felt the spanish confident on my tongue and pride in my open hands gesturing to the roads that lead me home. I have been so welcomed into conversations with taxistas that I am almost sad when the meter comes to a halt. And then there is the night I shared the backseat with two best friends, comfortably surrounded by our unified voices in the night as we sang every word of Bohemian Rhapsody with the radio. I can still see the driver's eyes in the rearview, his rolling laughter encouraging us to be young and unafraid.
There was a girl in the mirror who waited for years to be found.
Fulfillment came knocking the very morning I lost her.
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