What gets me about endings is how abrupt they seem. It's not so much that time goes by like a tortoise or a hare; it is when I can say that I am coming home tomorrow. Tomorrow.
We had our last retreat at Lago de Yojoa and took a tour of a waterfall. My senses are still on the fritz from that one.
I know I should make two lists: one of what I'll miss about Hondruas and one of what I'm looking forward to in the States. But I'm not going to. I'd leave things out. Forget a few memories.
I'm trying to see how to merge these two worlds. Yes, there will be things that are solely available in Honduras - strawberry chicky cookies for example. These are different experiences, cultures, and value systems but they have all occurred in my one lifetime.
All events in my life have occurred in sequence, obviously. Why would I treat this semester the same as adding navigation to a car? It's not a bonus or an extraneous circumstance. It happened. It is now every bit of my past as getting chicken pox, breaking my wrist, or learning how to walk.
It's hard writing that this semester is now my past. That puts a finality to it. Pretty soon Calvin will be in my past. Then my first dog will be a memory. I am realizing the implications of forward motion and my inability to stop it.
Ultimately, it's not about living in Honduras or living in the States; its about living, breathing, enjoying, seeing, being.