Parece un sueño (like a dream)
Well! I’m back in Santa Cruz, and no matter how many times I pinch myself (and I actually have, many times!) it still feels a bit like a dream, or like I’ve gone back in time. Things have changed here in the two-and-a-half years since I left (the little juice packages I used to drink are smaller, riding the micro costs 20 cents more, the kids have grown like weeds) but even though things are different, it still feels so natural to be here, so much like home. Little, familiar things I didn’t know how much I missed… those are the things that really get me! The neighbourhood kids poking their heads in the window, wanting to play. The way our bathroom door creaks. Being smushed together with strangers on the micro. Freezing cold showers. Eating cunape, salteñas, and peanut soup. The smell of the kid’s shampoo. Chickens running around the house. Being called Tia (Auntie) Keemberli. Having time to think while doing laundry by hand. All these little things are exactly how I remember them, and I feel so blessed to get to experience them again. Luis Enrique, one of the younger kids at the orphanage looked at me yesterday and kept closing his eyes and then opening them, looking at me and said, “Tia, parece un sueño que usted esta aqui.” (Tia, it feels like a dream that you are here). Yep. It does. Like the best dream I’ve ever had.
My sisters were at the airport waiting for me with balloons! We got home and they had made me a sign and bought a cake that said welcome home kimberlee! Lots of pinching. The next day we took a bus with all of the young adults from church 4 hours into the countryside, through these beautiful mountains, and went swimming under some big waterfalls. Sharing all of this with Catherine, the SALTer who is here now, is such a neat experience — it’s incredible to have someone who understands life here as well as back home to be able to talk about everything with. The kids at Talita Cumi are on summer vacation now – perfect timing because we get to spend lots of time together, and also because I can make myself useful as another tia to take care of this dear group of hooligans! One of the special memories from when I lived here was teaching a small boy named Grismaldo how to read. We spent hours with phonics flashcards, and it was neat because I was learning to read in Spanish too. Yesterday he shyly asked if he could read to me — so we sat and he read me the same books I always used to read to him when he first came to the home and didn’t know the alphabet. That was pretty special.
Pray for the Bolivia, and for the kids at Talita Cumi if you get a chance? There has been a ton of staff turnover since I’ve been gone, and I worry about how this affects kids who have already been hurt and abandoned so many times. I am not looking forward to saying goodbye again. And yet… I have faith that these kids will be okay. They are better readers, better soccer players, taller and tougher than they were when I left. They’re growing up!
A chicken just jumped up on the table where I’m sitting, looked at me, and hopped down.
Ha! I’m going to miss this place.
Thoughts from Santa Cruz 