I can’t seem to shake it...

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...and honestly I feel as if I’ve taken two steps into the shallow end of the pool of problemas mundial. 

I’m exhausted.  We’ve had a very long day and it’s only the first day of an adventure that seems quite infinite.  I hear a longer, more mature rhythmic sound of air passing from the environment, through the nose, filling lungs and back out into the environment mixed with a quite similar rhythm although it’s much more quickly occurring.  It’s pristine.  The tiny nose and lungs easily fill and empty that same air.  My back aches and I wish this sterilized room had a more Lazy-boy like recliner, but who can complain with sounds like that taking priority.  Perspective man, perspective. 

Amazingly kind, energetic economist – “So how does it feel?”

English teacher – “It’s beyond what I can explain, it’s just so good.  Me falta harto sleep, but it’s beyond worth it.”

Amazingly kind, energetic economist – “I know!  Isn’t it amazing.  The mere idea of new life is beautiful.”

English teacher – “And you, how many kids would you like to have”

Amazingly kind, energetic economist – “Remember, English Teacher, I had cancer when I was 19 and they had to take out everything.”

English teacher – “Lo siento.  I’m so sorry, I know, I remember you telling me that, I just didn’t realize, that.

Amazingly kind, energetic economist – “But I want to adopt so badly.  Think about how many little guaguitas are born everyday without someone who desires them, holds them and gives them cariño.”

English teacher – “That’s awesome.  Really that’s incredible.  Me and my wife hope to adopt some day as well”

Amazingly kind energetic economist – “I know, I can’t wait.”

English teacher – [Internally] “Perspectiva”

There’s a weight on his chest that is more valuable than gold as he turns westward onto Calle Hugo Bravo.  He’s proud, he’s chocho. 

“Hey, you’ve got a guagua in there don’t you?” 

“Yep, the kangaroo pouch is awesome.  He passes out the moment he slides in.” 

“How many semanas does he have?” 

“He’s 2 weeks old.” 

“Wow, can I see him…awwww.  He’s so cute.  You must be so chocho, so proud.” 

“It’s amazing to be a dad.  ¿Do you have any kids?”

“No, my wife never could get pregnant although we tried.  We really love the relationship    we’ve got with our nephews.  By the way, you’re not from around here are you?” 

“Nope, we’re gringos, we live up that away.” 

“Oh well it’s nice to meet you and welcome to our country.”

The little guy’s asleep and I feel that soft non-mature rhythm on my neck again.  He’s comfortable.  He’s warm.  His long frame has shrunken into that “before the non-mature rhythm making even started” stage.  He’s in his milk coma and I’m mildly relieved to know that there will be a few hours of tranquilidad.  When I take a glance to make sure those brown eyes aren’t still fighting back the heavy lids, it hits me.  The Sr. of the Jr. from which he got his second name (since none of his teacher’s will be able to pronounce it until second semester) never had his counterpart to pat Sr.’s back until the chanchitos were all out and could rest in his arms.  Why did the weight of little guy increase fifteen-fold and I feel as if my eyes were drowned in salty wetness?

I feel as if I could continue this list not only with this branch of thought, but in numerous others.

Life is beautiful and yet gut wrenching.  We must celebrate and yet we must mourn.

I’ve learned to resist the classic pregunta, “Where is God in all of this?” and start to question, “Where am I in this?”  Not an essay worthy nor complete and comprehensive answer, but it’s where I’m at, it’s how I deal with the anger and the joy.

If I’m purely intoxicated with my own state of being; my happy, my sad, my down, my satisfied, my thrilled or my gray, what good am I truly but to myself?  It’s this blessing and curse of community that leaves me a bit more balanced and hopeful.  Most importantly, it’s a necesidad, it’s what calls my attention when I so easily fall into the focus of my world, my situation, my status.

But like I said, this isn’t compete or comprehensive.  It’s a working paper.