The End.

I have day left in Honduras. I am feeling torn in two by this bittersweet binary.


On one hand:

I feel like I have been here forever. As silly as it may seem, some days I cannot even remember what 22 years of life felt like before this. Honestly. I think back to August when I first arrived, young and ready to face the world. I've seen so much since then and I don't feel like the same person. I've got growing pains. I'm too tired to work. My skin is too burned and my eyes are half-shut. I'm sick of inconsistency, inefficiency, inconvenience, monstrous bugs, disrespectful men, filthy everything, a power-tripping boss, frustrating double-standards, frequent running water/electricity outages, the exhausting task of controlling thirteen rambunctious (although adorable) four year olds, and trying to maintain relationships from what feels like a world away. I'm sick of every single thing being so difficult and I am just completely spent. So, I guess you could say I'm glad at the prospect of lighting out of here soon.


On the other hand:

I laugh to think about it all. I've got it made, really I do. I am head-over-heels in love with thirteen unique, fragile, and beautiful little humans. The best part? They love me back. Imagine that. They call me their teacher, but I've certainly learned much more from them. They have taught me to be patient (really, really, really patient), to laugh more, to dream big, and to love in a new way. As if it gets any better, I'm living in paradise. I like where I wake up and I spend my days freely. I've got a cottage so far up in the mountains that I breathe in the clouds. Fresh stucco and a coat of bright paint. Wide-open windows. A kitchen full of flies. Holes in my clothes. Every day is sunny with a chance of rain. My yard requires no cultivation and it offers every shade of green I could ever dream of. On the weekends, we jump in the river by my house. I collect all the coins that I find in a small clay pot, pocketing only the ones that face up. If ever I find a different place so picturesque, it should be another miracle. Sometimes I think I could stay here forever.



Already, I can feel myself romanticizing this chapter which is so suddenly closing. In polishing my memory, every moment somehow becomes more precious, however impossible to relive. I cannot say how I've gotten here, but I can say with confidence that it has been worth the trouble. I only know that experiencing it, in infinitesimal increments, has been the sweetest, saddest, most solemn and precious pockmark on my heart. Even awash with grief and riddled with lost illusions, nothing's ever felt so true.

things that have happened..

So much has happened. I have too much to say, too much time in which to say it, which is actually even worse than too little time. Here are highlights:

• Sarah brought a puppy home in March. I named him Fitzgerald.
  

• I had visitors! Chad came in March and my mom and Max came in April. I had a very redemptive spring break with said visitors at Lake Yojoa and Copan Ruins.

• I had a joint birthday party with my student Candido Fernando. I turned 23! He turned 5! We invited our whole class and broke a piñata together. I love my little friends. They know how to party.

• My dearest friend here, Kirsty (the second grade teacher), took a whirlwind of a trip to St. Louis to interview at Washington University Law School. It's a little pathetic, but I admit that I missed her while she was gone.The good news: she made it back safely to Honduras with all sorts of American goodies to share (espresso brownies?! yes please!). What's best? She owned the interview and got accepted into the program a few weeks later! We celebrated accordingly.

• There was an awful dry spell. We spent a rough two weeks without running water. There were even several occasions where the power also cut out. I don't feel like going into details, but I will tell you that it was really frustrating.

• My students only continue to amaze me! They can all write their names, read three-letter-words, and do basic addition. Can I remind you that they are four years old? I'm glowing with pride. I love my little ones.

• I took a day trip with Sarah, Laura Beth, and Juan Carlos to La Campa, a neighboring village known for its pottery.

• I took a weekend trip to La Union with Kirsty. Highlights included making new friends, exploring a coffee plantation, riding in pick-up trucks, and being serenaded by a wandering mariachi band, all in true Honduran fashion.

• I have a plane ticket! I will be flying home to Chicago on June 14th.
  

I was going to write about a beautiful moment from a golden age, but now that I've come here to write it, it just sounds so antiseptic compared to the beauty of the moment itself, so forget it. Everything else is the same and it's almost June. The dry spell is over and we're in a sea of green again. Maybe it's on account of the rain, but it's not so brutally hot anymore. The smell of the coffee blossoms was so sweet for a while, it smelled like a licorice factory. It was a bit sickening, actually. The bugs seem to enjoy it, though. Every daylight hour is a formidable frenzy of creatures of all colors and creeds.

Sometimes it feels like I've been here forever. Other times, everything still feels like the beginning of something. I have more Honduran tales to chronicle, but succinctness already is getting lost. That can't be helped.

news 4 yous.

Some good news i've been meaning to share:

I have a new student, which now brings my grand total up to 13 students. His name is Daniel and he is truly the tiniest thing you'll ever see. My students are 3 and mostly 4 years old, but I am convinced that Daniel is 2. Really. Jokes aside, this child is so miniature! Throughout his entire first day of school, I couldn't maintain composure because of how strongly he resembles an ewok. It's true! I'll take a photograph!

I picked up a second job. I have been volunteering for World Vision on and off since November. For those who don't know, World Vision is one of the largest international relief and development organizations, operating in more than 90 countries worldwide. They have an office here in Gracias that is quite understaffed. They had me doing some office work and a little bit of document translating here and there. Well, in December, I took an exam to see if i could qualify as an official translator. It was, hands down, the hardest exam I've ever taken. After almost two months of waiting, the results are finally in and I passed the exam. World Vision is now paying me to translate sponsorship letters between local Honduran children and their Sponsors. The pay really isn't anything worth writing home about, but I'm just thrilled to be helping out, doing something worthwhile with all my free time, and gaining valuable experience from such a reputable organization.


I have visitors coming! Chad will be here from March 18-April 5. As if i couldn't be any more spoiled, my mom and my youngest brother, Max, will be spending their spring break here from April 2-10.


Also, I planted lots of flowers in my yard! This place is looking like a palace! Mama would be proud. Look at me go!


These are all things that make me happy.

Wheeeee!

I'm the illest.

I've been wanting to get sick for a while now. Just hit me like a ton of bricks and get this whole thing over with please. Well, I knew it was coming.

And now I am sick. Officially sick, not just circumstantial, like tired or having had the wrong thing to eat. I feel like my head is full of water.

Haiti.

On Monday, the quakes were felt in Honduras, but news travels slow here and I had no idea how hard they had hit Haiti until several days after the fact. I'm struggling to wrap my mind around the devastation; the number of casualties is just unreal to me. It's so much easier to avoid such stark realities, but even from this distance, I still feel the horror.

Here are some extremely powerful images taken by Damon Winter for The New York Times.

Dear loved ones,

If you ever wonder what someone is up to, the answer is a whole lot of something you don't know. That's what I always say. Anyway, I've been quite awful at keeping everyone up to speed. So here I am standing at the halfway mark of my time here in Honduras, just nodding my head like "yeah, it's about time to start blogging. So here goes something...

To recap and get you up to speed:

-I live in a small village called Villa Verde, which is on a big mountain called Mt. Celaque, which is outside of a small town called Gracias, which is in a small country called Honduras. Ever heard of it? Yeah, probably not.

-I live in a tiny little house with three wonderful friends/co-workers. Co-existence couldn't be any more blissful.

-I am a teacher for Abundant Life Christian School. It is a bi-lingual PreK-9 school with about 250 students. I teach Preschool! Yeah! Imagine that!

-I have twelve students. My class is a joy to the world, a perpetually tipped over giggle box. They are just the most terrific group, I love them.



So, I'm going to make an honest attempt at updating this consistently. I don't know, maybe I'm a fool to be writing this and believing that it means something, and someone someday soon will show me, but the memories are mine. Everything that passes. Even I can't undo it.


I miss you all.

With love,

Jacki

here.

I'm exhausted. My suitcase is still full, as is my belly. Now I'm in my new home by my open window, listening to the bugs, my hair standing on end. I watch every pair of headlights, wondering who. No girl could run up that mountain that fast. I'll tell you more later.