A Heart Divided: the tension of 2 homes

This is the longest I've been away from Bolivia in the 5 and a half years I've lived there.  And this was the hardest it's ever been to come home to the States.  Not because I didn't want to be here.  I do!  But this time I left behind so much more...

I miss the incredible outdoors in the Andes and the exotic new places to explore.  The strange, new plants and trees to discover, the wild fruit and flowers to gather and the thrill of soaking in a place I didn't grow up in.  The water isn't clearer, the sky isn't bluer, and the grass isn't really greener, but there's still something intangible and alluring.

I miss my partner in adventures, and his motorcycle that takes us to the places we want to explore.  I miss coming home at night and being able to process and unwind with Collin.  I miss his crazy goofiness and his passion for life that inspires me to be a better version of myself, to get out in the world and try new things.  I just miss him.

When I'm in Bolivia, I miss my parents.  They're my other partners in adventure.  We hike and bike, go on runs, x-country ski, have campfires in the back yard and play bananagrams at night.  I didn't grow up in the Latin culture where children and parents stay close through their adult lives, but boy does it make sense to me now.

I miss Saturday afternoons and Sunday mornings with my vecinitos (little neighbor kids).  I think I even miss them ringing my bell 2 or 3 times a day, yelling "¡KAA-TIIIIIIIIIIIIII!" when I don't come to the door right away.  I miss Jhonny's heartbreaking smile when he's looking for approval or love.  I miss Liz's energy and excitement as she helps me wash dishes or make food.  I hope I get to see them a lot when I go back.  There's a part of me that's so afraid that something will happen to them while I'm away, or that they'll stop making the several kilometer walk to visit me a couple times a week, now that they live far away.

But in Bolivia, I miss my close, deep, rich friendships.  Friendships like Tia and Bonnie who've known me since elementary school and pre-school.  Or friends like Jessica who has given me unconditional friendship since high school.  There's nothing like friends who have known you for decades, who you can pick right back up with as though years hadn't gone by since the last time you saw each other.  Friends to run and hike with, friends to stay up late talking with or go thrift store shopping with, or just share lunch.  I am SO grateful for my time here to soak up those relationships and fill my tank back up.

I REALLY miss my boyfriend Humberto.  I sure wish it was easier to talk to Bolivia from the States and vice versa!  I miss connecting with him every day.  I miss the way he makes me laugh, his smiles, and the way he screws up his face when he makes a joke.  I miss making dinner with his sisters and staying up late with them, feeling a part of the family.  I miss playing music with him, leading worship with him, listening to new songs with him.  I know distance is supposed to be good and healthy for a relationship.  Right now, it just feels plain hard.

I miss watching Collin and Matias take nap time together.  What I really miss is scooping up Matias in my arms and holding him close, feeling him gently stroke my arm and finger my hair.  I miss his squeals of delight when I tickle him or chase him around the apartment.  I miss his toothy smiles and bath time splashes.  I miss his the way he finds me with a book in hand, asking to read, and the soft coos he makes when he sees birds.  I miss his insistent "buh?" noises when he asks if a bus is going to drive past our apartment and makes the sign for more when one finally does.  I never realized how deep my love runs for Matias until I left and he left a big, Matias-size hole in my heart.  I have dreams about arriving back in Bolivia and scooping him up in my arms again.  I don't know if I'll ever be able to let him go again when I see him again in real life.

Matias as a Jack-o-lantern

I'm not super into Halloween.  But I've always loved traditions and the familiar rhythm of doing something I've done since I was a kid.  Carving Matias' face into our pumpkin this year seemed like a good way to feel just a little closer to him.  When I'm in Bolivia, carving a watermelon (the closest thing to the size of a pumpkin) just doesn't seem to cut it.  Roasted, salted watermelon seeds don't even come close to the yummy pumpkin seeds my mom made this year.

I miss my third grade kiddos.  A lot.  I miss their constant hugs, their unconditional love, the way they delight me with their perspective on the world and their mischievous smiles.  I miss teaching.  I miss reading books during snack in our reading corner and opening up a whole new world of imagination and make believe for my kids.  I hope all my kids return to The Center next year.

I miss sunsets on my balcony over Cochabamba.  Enough said.

When I'm in Bolivia, I desperately miss snow.  It's not the same to drive up into the mountains and see where it's collected, hard and crusty on the Andes.  I love to run in it, taste it, smell it.  I love to sit on my bed and watch it fall outside, or walk out my front door and enjoy in the contrast of harvest red rosehips on soft snow.

And when I'm in Bolivia, I miss the homegrown apples off our apple tree.  And the homemade applesauce, apple tart, apple pie.......  Imported apples from Chile that we get in Bolivia just aren't the same as the sweet tang of a rosy Macintosh apple straight from the tree.