Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Crossing the Border

The magic of airplanes. One minute I’m dragging my worn-out suitcase through unpaved roads, the next minute I’m unpacking the same suitcase in another world, where the streets are paved and lined with gold, yet nobody really notices.

My immediate thoughts, within the first few days: Yes, I missed the streets of San Francisco, but not the walls of corporate America. Yes, I missed nice things, actually, having things, but not being broke because of them. Yes, I missed the speedy and efficient service for everything, but not the lightning-speed pace of life.

I definitely do NOT miss “work” as being the reason why the majority of people don’t ever have time for themselves and loved-ones or for things they really would rather be doing.

Eventually, the inevitable came. The departure date. I spent my entire life bouncing between two countries, and now comes a third, so one would think goodbyes become easy at some point. The truth: the “Hellos” never lose their thrill, but, neither does “Goodbye” fail to pierce through the heart each and every time. Even if it’s with the same people again and again.

So why do I keep saying goodbye, especially to those I hold closest to my heart? I don’t think I ever told anyone goodbye. It has always been a “See you later.” Out of the desire to find myself. Out of the need to chase my dreams before regrets start chasing me.

How bittersweet was the minute I realized that I yearned to go back to Honduras because there my dream awaited to be completed. Now, as I patiently head that direction one day at a time, what keeps me going is the promise of the next round of hellos. And the thought that perhaps, on top of “Hello,” one day I will get to say, “Guess what, I’m here to stay.”