Aug. 2, 2008
Some of my fellow volunteers were confused about what I meant by this. More than a few assumed that I was going home – to the States – rather than home – to Cabricán.
After spending in all practical terms the entire month of July out of site, I am ecstatic that I am HOME. Which makes me wonder: when did I start referring to Cabricán as home? Is it in fact my home?
They say home is where the heart is, but I cannot claim that my heart is here. My cat, my stuff, and my “life” are temporarily stashed here. Temporarily being the key word. But my heart? I suppose Guatemala is growing on it. More than a few lifelong friendships have developed here. I love waking up here and watching the sun burn through the fog, the mountains slowly rising out of the mist, but I think my heart is back in the States, with my family, my past and my future. Perhaps my heart would be here, if it was committed. However, knowing this experience is transitory keeps my heart at bay. For what is the point of forming a permanent attachment to something that isn’t permanent?
Yet, I am calling Cabricán home, even though I know it is only temporary, and even though I know my heart isn’t here. My home is where my stuff is. Or my heart is here, and I just haven’t realized it yet.