Home.

I am home.
I am happy, and sad, all at the same time.
I love being back with family and friends, but I miss my Honduran friends. I talked to Rosy on the phone last night and had to hold in the tears, as I realized that I have no idea when I will see her again. I wrote this about how I felt:

Sitting around the kitchen table, illuminated only by the light of a kerosene lamp, burning brilliantly in the centre of the table, looking around at the flame-lit faces of the people most dear to me in Ciriboya, I feel blessed. The blend of black and white faces, blue eyes and brilliant black eyes, blond and black hair, and young and old, is a symbol to me of the transcendence that friendship has over language, race, age, culture or tradition.

I have been forever changed by Ciriboya. The friendships, the joys, the struggles, the tears, the anger, the laughter, and the unforgettable experiences have left an indelible mark on my soul. I have been developped in some way, shape or form through my time in this "backwards" village of Ciriboya...to the point where it no longer seems backwards, but in some profound way, very "frontwards".

The candlelight, the atmosphere, the community around the table, draws it all together for me. The differences cease to divide us, and friendship, the heart of the matter, is what will hold us together.