Context

I have five nights left in Nicaragua.

Last week I visited the new volunteers' two week project painting and upgrading a kindergarten classroom. It was a quiet morning because the kids were out of school, only breezes through shady trees and the ever present chatter of the birds. It was soothing, meditative work with the paintbrushes rolling over the walls, giving a facelift, some brighter colours, maybe some hope. Who knows. At one point there must have been a church gathering or something in the distance because a chorus of singing voices reached us on that hot nicaraguan morning air, humming and buzzing of life and worship. Could not distinguish the words and probably wouldn't understand it even if I could, but it was so pleasant. Reminded me of how our voices sound at camp when we are all singing in the mess hall and if you are outside, not directly involved the voices just fill the summer space and it is nice. Just nice, pleasant as dappled shadows, as little kids waving, as not understanding but enjoying anyways.

When I returned to Carita Feliz after that, it was this explosion of life and energy and sound. How the kids occupy the space they do, filling it so completely with their voices and bodies and lives, however temporary we might all be. And if you ever wonder why people do this, fixing schools and painting walls and maybe spending the rest of their lives down here because oh, that's where their heart has found itself, if you ever wonder why, you just need to walk into a school or orphanage or community centre when the kids are running, laughing, screaming to each other. And maybe it is for the kids but just close your eyes and feel how we all take up a little bit of space on this earth, how our dreams and hopes and fears and stories follow us wherever it is that we go, how we all have a family somewhere, how we all need our hearts to beat and our lungs to breathe and how when we all sing, it is unity and pleasantness and life.

Walking home from Carita that day, there was this carnival parade exploding down the streets with colour and kids and candy and music. I didn't mean to have it affect me, but like most things in life you never know what will move you and then this did. I was walking back from saying goodbye to the American volunteers whose last day it was and in front of me was Calle la Calzada underneath bubbling thunderstorm clouds, the bright yellow church in the distance, trees and horse carriages waiting for me to pass by. Behind me the carnival parade passed, blasting music, scaring the birds from the rosters of the burned church that's seen more fires and history of Granada than most ancestors. And "we found love in a hopeless place" just suddenly dawned on me. Because I did find love here, in these kids and these volunteers, whether or not this is an entirely hopeless place, and so I swallowed the tears for that moment because it felt more precious than anything else, necessary to just feel it and see it and witness this.

I spent my friday night looking at the stars and stars and stars and constellations I don't know how to name and sitting and chatting with these people I didn't know but now I love and somewhere between our comfortable night in and falling asleep that night I became okay with the idea of coming home. Not leaving, just coming home. Because now what happens is the really important stuff. You've been with me as I've discovered how incredible it is to be travelling like this, to volunteer like this, how much I believe I am capable of now doing for my future. And I've stumbled into several realizations that have given me insight on what I'd like to do with my life, and where it all starts to matter is when I return home. Where do I go after this experience, what will I do with all I've learned and felt and taught and lived when I get back to Canada? And this is how I'm okay with the idea of next week, of two months from now, because I get to start putting everything I've discovered I want into play, get the wheels turning, get focused, get real. I'm excited for how I will make this all work out for me. Nervous, too, because I have no idea how my dreams and realizations will fit into a North American context, but there it is.

I will leave you here for the evening and write more on our last hooray of a weekend for another day.

Here is to what remains, and what is to come.

dftba
-k