The strangest year of my life

This has been, without any shadow of a doubt, the strangest year of my life. In fact, I can't believe that it has been a whole year. I remember when I first arrived in Honduras, everything was strange and new. I would constantly, for example, try to guess what time it was...I was usually about an hour or two late in my guesses. Honduras moves so slowly! The pace of life here is just incredibly slow. But, I adjusted to it. I quickly learned that there are very few forms of entertainment on the top of a mountain, and, with my friends, figured out ways to entertain myself. We talked endlessly, sang a lot, danced, had fires, chopped down Christmas trees, made our own Thanksgiving dinner (onion rings and corn dogs!), listened to lots of music. We struggled with the food, we struggled with the language, we struggled with the school administration, but we got through all of it and now here we are, with less than a week left to go.

It has been one of the strangest years of my life because all of my days blend together. Other than slight changes in weather and seasonal bugs (and now mice), it's very difficult for me to differentiate the days in my mind. It's like a big blur. Everything is so slow here! Things slowly happened, one thing after another. The days turned into weeks and the weeks into months. Honduras was a time warp. It was also very me-centric. My life here consisted of me, my friends/co-workers, and my students, and everything else fell way outside of that. I have kept in touch with my family and closest friends, but pretty much lost touch with everyone else. It's like I have Honduras-blinders on or something. I kind of forgot that there's a big world out there, that hasn't stopped moving while I've been here in the mountains. In all honesty, I'm nervous to rejoin the world.

I can say that I'm fully satisfied with the way I have lived my life here. I truly appreciated every day that I spent in the mountains. I basked in the sunlight, I spent ample time staring at the night sky, I noticed the clouds and the flowers and of course, the magnificent mountains. I spent many, many days at the river. I sunbathed, swam, played in the waterfalls. I have made wonderful, life-changing friends here. I spent time with my neighbors. I learned how to make baleadas. I learned how to teach second grade. I learned Spanish. I learned exactly how much I don't know. I learned how to ask the questions that might help me seek some sort of greater truth. I spent so much time with my students. Teaching them, playing with them, observing them, hugging them. I love them.

I have never known love quite like this before, either. It's not like family love or friend love, it's really unique. I love these children so much, but they aren't mine! I am just their second grade teacher...I don't know how much they will even remember me. I wish I could stay with them forever. I want the very best for them. When they misbehave, I love them even more. I want to help them in every way that I possibly can. I'm probably going to end up dedicating my professional career to them by studying immigration law. I just adore them.

This is hard. I'm teaching for the last time. I want to enjoy it and maximize my time while also remaining reflective and soaking in every moment here. I want to psych myself up, but not so much that I'm devastated on Friday. I also recognize that I have been pretty down on Honduras for a while now. I feel that it's time to go, I just don't know how to leave. I don't know how to say goodbye to my life here. My life here is so comfortable that the idea of leaving feels...overwhelming. But in my heart, I know that the only thing worse than leaving would be staying. I know I can't stay....I guess I just also wish I didn't have to say goodbye.