The Return

This blog entry is dedicated to the return of many things: my return to the United States, my return to El Salvador, and the return of the piojos.

December 27th I started my trek home, taking two planes before arriving in Sacramento, but they almost didn't let me leave El Salvador because my visa had expired. I tried to explain to them that I had already paid for my visa and I just didn't have the card, but the guy just wouldn't let me go. Finally, after three times of repeating the same thing and some silent prayer, the guy just waved me through with a bit of resignation, the look on his face saying, "Fine, just go, OK?" To make a very long story short, I got home safely, spent a lot of time with my family and my boyfriend, Peter, sang at my cousin's wedding (it went well), and cried my eyes out because everyone was leaving for school before I had to go back to El Salvador. Throughout my stay at home I just felt so incredibly loved. It was wonderful. However, the most impressive experience occurred during the first 48 hours of my stay in the States. Actually, it is a composite of four experiences: on my first plane ride I decided to watch the in-flight movie, Batman Begins, but throughout the movie, the large man in front of me would put his hand behind his head, his elbow resting on the wall of the plane, blocking my view of the tiny 5-inch screen at intervals and driving me completely mad. I tried clearing my throat loudly several times, but the guy just didn´t get the message. I finally gave up, and tried to pretend that it didn´t bother me that he didn´t care about my ability to view the movie. My second experience occurred on my second flight (which I happened to share with Lisa Hwang and her parents), when I sat in front of a little girl and her mother. As I listened to them talk, I heard the mother explain to her daughter that she had two boxes of toys to play with for now, but in a little while she was going to get a whole new batch of toys. The statement astounded me. A whole new batch of toys? What extravagance! I was used to receiving toys one at a time when I was a child--I cannot begin to fathom getting a whole BUNCH of new toys all at once. It seems to me that that would cheapen the experience. Each of the toys could not be cherished as individuals, but rather, the group as a whole would get old very fast. That was my one experience with any kind of culture shock. My third experience occurred on the same flight. I sat beside a woman and her son who were returning from the funeral of their daughter and sister, Ashley. I had been late arriving to my flight, so I was still in a rush, putting away my things and situating myself in the seat as the mother began to talk to me, asking me if I was headed back to school. I answered her questions and asked some of my own, trying to show my genuine interest, but all the while busying myself with my belongings. It was then that I discovered she had just lost her 19-year-old daughter to a car accident. I genuinely felt for her, wanting to talk to her, to help her however I could, but for some reason I just couldn´t pull myself away from the ever-important task of putting my backpack away. I thought that I would talk to her more after I was all settled, but by that time, she had stopped talking to me, and I didn´t want to bring up a painful subject if she didn´t want to talk about it, so I remained silent. Then, finally, the fourth experience in this compiliation occurred after opening Christmas gifts on the night of December 28th. After we had all opened our gifts, my mother started talking, asking us kids if we thought we would like to always to gifts this way, each person getting a gift for everybody else. I asked what the other option was and she informed me that a family we know simply draws names and each person gives and receives only one gift. My jaw dropped open--only ONE gift? But that´s...so...little! I didn´t want to give up getting oodles of gifts to get only one. What if one of my siblings drew my name and couldn´t afford what I wanted? These four experiences showed me how selfish I am. There I was on the first flight, annoyed about a stupid movie, while a woman was grieving the loss of a loved one. And then, even though I had been surprised at the extravagance of the little girl´s pile of toys, I wasn´t willing to give up mine. How silly and self-centered I must be.

The return to El Salvador was difficult. I cried once I arrived in my room. Even though it was hard to leave the States again, it was a bit easier than before because the crying and sadness only lasted one day instead of a week, as it did the first time. Also, even though I was sad to leave, I didn´t really want to stay in the States. I knew I couldn´t. I knew I had to return here, even though it was difficult.

The first full week after my return here, Piojo Week began. At least a full day was spent in each house, shampooing the kids, washing all of their clothing and bedding, and having a huge nit-picking party. It was great. The only down-side was that the kids only got to go to the pool on Thursday, and since school starts for them on Monday, there will be no more chances for swimming lessons. The beginning of school marks another change of job description for me. At first, that new job description was Full Time Grounds Worker, but now it is changing, and some kind of teaching position may be involved. Nothing is really set in stone yet. So, as the possibility approaches that I may not have any more raking in my future, I will include this side note: Whenever I pick up leaves off of a paved surface, I think of Heidi Sargeant. That is because whenever I pick up leaves off of a paved surface I use my foot to brush the leaves together. This reminds me of the times when Heidi told me that she used to be the fish-kicker on a fishing boat when she was younger. So as I kick leaves, I kick fish, and I pretend that I, too, am working at sea.