It's been just over three weeks since I returned from Guatemala. Three weeks and I'm still processing that trip. In returning to the normal, everyday grind I forget. I forget the little girl whose front yard is littered with broken glass and cast away shoes and a burning pile of rubbish. I forget the little girl whose meals show up three times a week, served by pale skinned people with a funny language. I forget the little girl whose home is made of a dirt floor and walls made of sticks and found objects. I start to forget all that my eyes witnessed, all that I loved. I start to forget how she, this country and her people, changed me. So I visit the pictures often to remember. And as the tears fall I remember the laughter of the children. I remember that there is no language barrier when cuddling a child. I remember that I needed Guatemala more that Guatemala needed me. And my heart aches and longs to return.
Sharing over at Jennifer Peterson's, No Words are Needed.