I made my way back to Ecuador this past Friday, and it feels like I arrived home. My home. This city in the mountains, my little apartment tucked away on a hill, my sister’s in-laws who make me feel like family, my classroom at school–these are all bits and pieces of the home I’ve come to call Ecuador. And I am so grateful for the peace that has accompanied me here.
New York, with family and friends (and iced coffee!), was absolutely lovely and gratifying, in every way. Old traditions came back to life as my family came together from different corners of the world for our family vacation in the Adirondacks at Camp-of-the-Woods. My brother Jesse and his wife, Catherine, came with their two bundles of brightness, E and A. I fell in love with being their aunt as E and I dug in the sand and as A shared quick smiles, despite her shyness. It was so good to reconnect with the whole family after over a year of separation and to just remember that distance cannot undo us. We may part for a time, but we will eventually come back together again. My family came through on chaos and awesome volleyball games, but I think my favorite part of each day was when we would end up just sitting near the campfire together, laughing and relaxing, eating s’mores. I remember one night looking around and thinking, “This is us, all grown up. We made it.” My family, we made it.
And then there were friends. Friends who I miss so much while here across the ocean on another continent. Angela, a girl who gives me a hug that embraces more than just my body, a hug that says, “You are known, and you are loved.” Sparanderadays will never last long enough, in my opinion. And Dorea, who makes being a hobo fun. We went to the beach for a day, and we lived like queens. We spent the morning walking down the beach, filling a coke bottle with rocks we picked from the waves. Sometimes we talked; other times we stayed quiet. We didn’t need to rush the being together. As far as I’m concerned, our friendship has forever to fill in the gaps. It was enough to just be together. And then there were those closer to Tuxedo. Katie Moo, 7 years and going. Ale and her parents, who mean it when they say, “Mi casa es su casa.” Dina and Rob, who have a couch that knows my sleep patterns better than any other. And Milkbone, who might quit his daytime job of mailman for modeling down by the river. All these friends, it hurt each time I had to drive away, but somehow I am here and there is peace. There is peace to remember, again and again, that distance cannot undo us.
a scribble of jo 