Two months, living in a small town in rural Guatemala. New friends. Stories of war, love, strength, loss, courage, and dreams of the future.
Rainwater collects in the plastic sheeting that covers the massive cement sink and water tank where I wash my clothes, my hands, and my face every morning. Children also wash their hands there before eating papaya from the tree and after playing tag (tenta), hide-and-seek (escondidos), or frisbee (disco) in the yard of the house where I live.
I wash my clothes every morning at 6:30am because it’s hot, and sunny in the morning, and I can hang it to dry in time before the afternoon rains.
I scoop the rainwater and paint watercolor pictures for my friends. I have trouble expressing myself, in English, much less in Spanish, so I spend hours painting, to try to at least begin to convey…..