How you say in English, 'lista?'

All the other teachers often point something out about the students in my class: that when they speak, they constantly interrupt themselves by saying, "How you say in English..." and then they speak in Spanish. Sometimes, they even start their sentence by saying "how you say in English..." and then they actually speak in English, which is even more hilarious. For example, today one of my students asked me, "How you say in English, 'uncle?'" Whenever this happens, I just look at them for a second until they figure it out, or laugh and tell them, 'good job, that IS English!' It's cute.

Anyway, lista means ready, and that's what I am. I'm ready. I love so many things about Honduras. My experience here has been absolutely invaluable to me. When I came to this country, I was broken in more ways than one. I went through an incredible healing process here, and in the meantime I taught a grade, learned Spanish, met amazing people, grew spiritually...the list goes on. Honduras is so important to me. But as my time here begins to dwindle, I find myself getting more and more excited about what's next.

I am anxious to be home and enjoy America again. Going to the US a couple weeks ago was a bit of a shock for me. In the hotel, I kept thinking that bugs were on me, but in the USA...it's never bugs. It's always hair or a string or something, but not spiders or beetles. Everything was just efficient, and shiny, and...like home. The USA is where I grew up, and it's where my family is. It's not that the culture is better, but it's where I feel at home.

I have decided on a law school and so I know what I'm doing in the fall. I have plans to fly all over the USA this summer; I'm going to New York to visit one of my best friends, to Louisiana to visit Alex, to Chicago for a wedding (!) and to visit Jacki... I have a lot to look forward to.

So, I'm excited to go home. That being said, I cannot say enough wonderful things about Honduras. My experience here has been life-changing. I've grown so much. Not to mention I'm in love with 20 little children. When I think about that part of leaving- specifically, leaving them, I feel a little sick. I don't know how I'm going to do it. I absolutely adore every one of them. There are things I tell myself to comfort myself- like how I want to go to law school to be an immigration lawyer so that I can help people in hard situations, like many of my students are. But it doesn't make me feel any better about leaving them. In fact, there's a real element of guilt associated with leaving. Why do I have the freedom to leave? For me, this was just a year-long experience. My life is so me-based that I only think of myself... but for most of the people here, this is their life. It's what they've always known, and they'll never leave. That concept, as simple as it probably sounds, is hard for me to fathom.

But I'm not ready to talk about existentialism or embark upon self reflection and introspection quite yet. For now, I'm just focusing on the last five weeks of my school year in Honduras and trying to make the most of that time.