Today is the day of goodbyes. Sitting on the bus in front of the school in the morning I am filled with nervous anticipation. When will it really hit me that I'm not coming back tomorrow, or the next day, or the next? When will I realize that the sticky heat, choppy language, and overwhelming green beauty won't be my reality anymore? When will I realize that no longer will I spend countless hours playing, carrying, laughing with, hugging and kissing precious children?
I get off the bus and am immediately immersed in the energy and excitement of the carnival. Each laugh as sincere as the last, but backed with the thought that this might be the last--at least with this child. The moments are bittersweet. I wonder if things should be more melancholy. But no. As much as everything is overshadowed with sadness, it is also about the barriers we have broken and the relationships we have built without words.
Gho takes me and Sam into an empty classroom and gives us a dragonfruit. Yang holds me as tight as I hold her. I watch Qua care for his baby sister in a sweet way I have only seen glimpses of throughout the week. Cahn and Duang run around like wind-up toys on caffeine. Lihn shows off her pretty new dress, she is wearing it here for the first time. Yim comes running over to leap into my arms. Later we play tag and she stops when she wants to be caught and tickled. I get in a waterfight with Yang and her aunt behind the school while boys throw water balloons at us. Dang is so glad I can finally sort of pronounce his name that he flashes me a million dollar lion smile. Cahn paints his own face while Duang tattoos his belly, cheeks, and chin. I catch glimpses of kids running in every direction as I watch pieces of my heart run all over the school yard.
I am afraid of losing who I am here. The happiness. The laughter. The love. Can I find that in Utah where people are absorbed in making mountains out of molehills where nothing really exists. In comparison to here, where it seems mountains are made into molehills as the humility and harmony of neighbors and friends shines through. I could live a lifetime here and still have so much to learn. I feel at home here. And I have come to realize that it is so much the people around that influence and shape you. It's not the green of the mountains or impoverished streets, for they would mean nothing if not for the children who come running and the women who stand waving. The men who stare, then smile at the onset of my waving. Without them, this would be just another pretty place.
I hope I have left something for the people here to reflect on or learn from. I hope they will trust me with a piece of their hearts to love and protect as I travel home and try to show others the difference one person can make. I hope I can bring home the me I am here. The one who smiles and waves at everyone. Who loves and is loved. One who will voice her mind and take the position she needs to. Who does not let her beliefs change with the wind. Who will pick up a wheelbarrow and run to the cheers of children and smiles of men. I think of all the things I have learned here that is one of the most important. Perhaps the Lord wanted me to find that divinity within myself and I needed to be here, with these special people, to do that. For that I am so grateful.
Alright, enough with my runaway mind. Just an hour until I go to say hello to my angels for the last time.
LATER.
I got off the bus to the sound of singing and clapping. This ceremony had such a contrast to the other. Rather than awkwardly trying to get a smile out of the kids, I was immediately grabbed on to. While we were waiting for everything to finish being set up, I grabbed my journal and passed it around to have the kids sign. I even got a few drawings. Treasures! I sort of followed my journal around and ended up sitting in the middle of the kids with Duang on my lap playing with my hands and a couple girls sitting behind me doing my hair. Then Gho pulled me toward her and Qua and Dang and THuang. When the ceremony began I had to go back over to my seat and on my way over I saw one of the girls from road repair! I was so happy! I didn't think I would see any of them again! It sort of made the moment perfect.
After our footloose dance, Duang grabbed me and picked our a seat for us. I was immediately surrounded by kids. It's the moments like that that show me that I really did make a difference to those kids. Maybe as a friend, a jungle gym, a hair model, an example, whatever it may be, they wanted to be around me.
In the end, the kids sang us a song. I sat with my road repair girl since she wasn't part of the school. We sat on the front row and I wrapped her up in my arms. She help on tight as we looked up at my kids' bright shining faces. I was having a hard time keeping my emotions in check, and I guess the kids noticed because I was surrounded by them when they finished singing. Now I said I was surrounded before, but this time I really mean surrounded. They all wrapped their arms around me and hugged me tight. Thuong reached over two kids to rub my sweaty back and lean his head on my shoulder. He looked like he was about to cry, too.
After the ceremonies the women had prepared a dinner for us. I was feeling rushed so I hurried and sat down, totally oblivious to the kids leaving or being told to left. I wish so badly that I had taken the time to say goodbye to my kids before I ate because nearly all of them were gone by the time we finished. We didn't get any final hugs of kisses. No last piggy back rides or games of tag. No real goodbye. They were just gone. And then we were gone. Since we didn't get the classic goodbye sendoff, I'm just counting my time in their midst during closing ceremonies as my goodbye.
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