twenty-two

This past Wednesday was my birthday and I turned twenty-two. To some, I am old, to others, still a youngin', and to others still, I'm simply joining the ranks. The tradition here is that on your birthday everyone has the right to throw eggs, flour, water, and even mud at you. I was afraid all day that someone was going to pelt me with eggs. Mami Tita (mother of House one, and all-girls house) came to give me a present while I was doing my laundry. When I came out of the bathroom (where the washing machine is kept) she had her hand up above her head, resting on the door jam. I couldn't see that hand or its contents, so as she smiled and stepped toward me, bringing her hand down to meet me for a hug, I suddenly remembered the possibility of her having an egg and jumped back two steps. Mami Tita stopped and looked confused. I looked at her hand and saw that she did not have an egg. I was relieved, yet sheepish. When I told her that I thought she had had an egg for me she only laughed and said, "Good idea!" It turns out that she had brought me a gift! I was so surprised--I hadn't expected to get anything from any of the parents or kids. It was so sweet of her. She made me feel as though I was her daughter even though I was thousands of miles away from my mother. I think that was truly the favorite part of my day. In the end, I survived without being egged or floured, though Kenny, Katrina, Elisabeth and Benjamin and Josue (sons of the director) all threw water at me. I just happened to be taking the kids to the pool at that time, so I had my bathing suit on anyway and that made me have fun with it, instead of getting mad about having to change my clothes again.

But on Sunday, before all of that happened, I moved out of House 2 and into the Six-Plex. About three weeks ago, our director of children's services suddenly realized that the girls in House 2 were a bit cramped with only two rooms for eleven girls. The girls had been like that ever since Christmas time when we got a new Tia (cook) who wasn't married and so could live in the house with us. But for some reason it took five months for anybody to realize that this was a less-than-ideal situation. As a remedy to the problem, the director of children's services asked the Tia and Alexis and I to share our rooms with a girl or two. However, Alexis and I didn't feel as though we had the space for either the girl or her stuff, much less both, and so began to explore alternative options. We knew that in time, SMs would be leaving and space would open up in other places where we could live. And so, I moved in with Katrina and Christina on Sunday and Alexis moved in with Andrea after Jennifer left on Tuesday. Which leads me to my next topic...

Five more SMs left on Tuesday: Jessica, Carrie, Jon, Marla, and Jennifer. That leaves ten of us. I was sad before they left and after they left, I even thought I would cry. But during the good-byes, I wasn't sad. I think that part of it was the fact that I was taking pictures with all of the leaving SMs, and when you're smiling for the camera every five seconds, it's a little hard to be sad. Also, as the van was pulling out of the gates, Megan suggested that we do as her grandmother does: we did a good-bye dance. We danced around like chickens and waved good-bye. But for the rest of the day, I moped. I walked past the places where they used to work and realized that I would never see those people working in those places ever again. I looked out the window as I worked, gazing into the field devoid of workers, and felt the emptiness. The ache has dulled as I've begun to focus on my own last days here, and I continue to hope that I might meet up with each of those people again. Only thirteen days left until I go home.