Even though I’m not a Peace Corps volunteer anymore my mind is still there in some ways. The down time when hiking is spent thinking about and reliving many events and aspects of my Peace Corps service. Today I was ruminating on the goodbye with my host mother. I have already said much about her so I will just tell the event.

It was a bright Wednesday morning, the sun hadn’t shined all week but today the sun was glistening on the lake as I stood on my roof to try to say goodbye to my home. I ate breakfast and got all of my bags ready. A few of the neighbor women came to say goodbye, the old ones predicted their deaths and the younger ones proposed for every member of their extended family.

My host father came to do what men need to do, to lift my heavy things three feet to feel like he was doing something. When it was clear there was nothing left to do, he silently cried. A man who rarely showed emotion cried for me. It was still very early to get a car, but my host father really wanted to rip of the band-aid. The next car that passed he threw my bags into and told the driver to go get some more passengers and be back in five minutes. I had five minutes to say goodbye.

My host mother had been hiding in the kitchen. Breakfast had been tense in the morning. We didn’t know what to say. I had already given a goodbye speech a day before. There wasn’t much left to say. Now I had to go find her and say goodbye for a final time. I went towards the kitchen and she met me in the tienda. She started to say a few words, but didn’t make it very far until the words were unintelligible. She cried and sniffed. I gave her a hug, a real body hug. Then I had to talk enough for the both of us, to let her know I knew what she was feeling and what she would want to say. I kept talking because if I stopped I wouldn’t know what to do. If I stopped I would just have to watch her cry.

The car honked outside. It was time for me to go. I hugged her one more time and then climbed into the front seat with two other people. It was fitting to have the last ride out of Paca be uncomfortable.

I got to the bus station and sat with my friend Kristi chatting and waiting for the bus. I looked up a little while later and saw my host mom walking towards me with a neighbor. “Can we wait for the bus with you?”

My host mom hadn’t been happy with the goodbye. She had things she wanted to say but couldn’t. So after my car left, she ran into the kitchen ripped a page out of a notebook and began to scribble down what she wanted to say with her tears dripping onto the page. She got into the next car hoping to meet me at the station before my bus left to give me the note. I want to share a few excerpts from that note.

“I don’t want to do anything today but, I know that I will get past my sadness. Don’t worry about me. You’re still young enough to achieve everything you want to.”

“Never forget that you have a family in Paca that loves you a lot”

“I’m sorry if I have failed you somehow.”

“I also ask you to give advice to your sisters, even from far away, so that they can make plans for their lives.”

“You are my son, I wait for your return.”