Peace Out

When I first came to Peru, I made a list in the back of my journal titled “Reasons I am here.”  The idea was to have a running list that constantly reminded me to keep my chin up when things got hard.  By the time the pages ran out in my journal, I had 15 items, and I had read and reread that list about a million times. 

When I started my new journal, I thought about making another list for the second half of service titled “Things I will miss.”  Unfortunately, at the time I was feeling too cynical to actually put anything down, and then the idea slipped my mind and it never happened.  One day from leaving site, I’ve decided to actually write that list. 

Really, the things that I will miss about Tantará and about Peru are little.  They are small moments that happen during a passing day that I almost forgot to notice. 

I will miss waking up to church bells and the bustling house.  I will even miss the rooster crows.  I will miss small children calling me Tía and hugging me on the streets.  I will miss knowing everyone I pass and having them greet me with a smile and, “Hola, Señorita Jenny.”  I will miss making my own schedule. 

I will miss the sunset turning the whole town pink, and how amazing the stars look when the electricity goes out.  I will miss walking into the kitchen every night and eating soup with my family.  I will miss sitting next to the stove when I’m cold.  I will miss aguita de hierbas and fresh fruit, especially oranges and avocado. 

I will miss my dog, Oso, protectively following me around, and my cat, Leo, purring in my lap.  I will miss that feeling of drying my hair in the hot sun after a cold shower.  I will miss having a beautiful garden of flowers right outside my door and eating vegetables that were in the ground that morning.  I will miss being able to make everything better by eating popcorn for dinner. 

Most of all, I will miss my host mom asking me, “¿Que novedades?” (What’s new?) and coming into my room to chismosear (gossip).  I will miss her protecting me and bragging about me.  I will miss my host grandfather telling long drawn out stories, and I will miss sitting in the kitchen listening to my host family talk about anything interesting that happened that day (mostly about the cows). 

In the last few weeks leading up to COS, I’ve been torn between overwhelmingly excited and overwhelmingly sad.  Most days, I don’t know if I should jump up and down or break down crying.  Sure, I’m excited for toilet seats and speaking English and high speed internet.  I’m excited for beer and indoor heating and driving my car.  I can hardly express how excited I am to be home with my family.  As the day gets closer, though, the list of things I will miss keeps getting longer, and I keep remembering reasons I am here. 

Last November, I got a letter I had written to myself right before I left for Peru.  One of my wishes for myself was that Peru had stolen a little piece of my heart.  As I get ready to leave, I know that it absolutely has.