Two Years Later

Mary Oliver says, “ Meanwhile the wile geese,

High in the clean blue air, are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination

Calls to you like the wild geese,

Harsh and exciting –

Over and over announcing your place in the family of things.”

It’s ironic that I am once again reminded of her words.

Almost two years after I first came across them in this same country.

As I once again try to find my own place in the family of things.

In August of 2011 I had no expectation that my life would be changed.

Now here I am, reminded at every minute, with every smiling face, silent tear, and joyous laughter of the person I was before and the person I am now. Reminded of the strength that out lasts fear and joy that out lasts pain.

In October of that year rain destroyed everything. Killed the baby at Casita Blanca. Washed the women down the road. Left my family cold and hungry.

Last week I sat on Angelica’s patio, writing only by the light of the candle, at peace even after the storm knocked out the power because we still laughed and danced and cooled off in the rain.

In December I said goodbye and I thought the world was sure to end.

Now here I am, after memories became distant. After names took a moment to recall. After a 122 day countdown started in January. 4 weeks in El Salvador. Back in the United States. Certain life has continued, that the world will not end.

A year later, things were better. I wrote to wake up, fell in love with St. Louis.

Then this past December, when my mom was diagnosed with cancer, the reality of losing a parent was still so distant.

Then on June 9^th, we lost Samuel, our beloved micro driver, father and friend. Nelson said, “when this happens one can only imagine themselves in the same situation”. And it hit me.  Now my mom sits in her rocking chair, no hair on her hear. Squeezing her eyes as I giver her her shots for the day.

 

Then Spring time brought flowers and sun, long walks in the park and the love of woman named Ann Manganaro.

Now I’ve been to Guarjila. Walked the grounds of the clinic. Met up with Marilyn and translated the mass for Ann’s twin and sisters. Stories, chocolate, and pan dulce were shared. Everything came full circle. Eyes filled with tears for loss and for gratitude.            

           

On May 25^th I boarded a plane, seeking validation that the experience I had, the love I felt, was real not imagined.

In four weeks I spent no more than six hours alone. I was accompanied by mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, most constantly fighting to survive. All with a power to pray, to give thanks, to offer blessings, food and beds.
Two years later, babies have been born. Lives have been lost.

Two years later El Salvador is still home.

Two years later the love is still real.

Two years later, we still sore, like Mary Oliver’s wild geese, trying to find our place in the family of things.