21 days from now, I'll be home. 21 days from now I will have finished my year in Honduras, packed up my life, and flown back to the States. 21 days from now one of the hardest, and most rewarding years of my life will be over.
When I started this job, there were times when I doubted that I would make it through. There was a period of about two weeks in October when I was just waiting for the right moment to tell someone I was done and ready to go home. I could not imagine staying for the whole ten months and the mere thought gave me a panic attack. I almost gave up.
I'm so glad I didn't. These last 9 months have challenged me more than I ever have been before. They tested my patience, my planning skills, my capacity to accept people for who they are instead of who I want them to be. These last 9 months pushed me hard, harder sometimes than I wanted to be pushed. In these last 9 months I've cried with frustration, anger, and helplessness. I've stifled enough inappropriate comments to fill a novel and if I had a dime for every time I said the words "sit down" or "be quiet" or "put the phone away", I would be a millionaire several times over. But I've also laughed. I've seen growth and maturity and empathy come from unexpected places. I've seen how rewarding it can be to have hard work pay off, and felt the pleasure of a mild, "I told you so". I've recognized the pride that comes with a job well done and known that I played even the tiniest part in that success. I've seen just how much a well-timed encouragement can do. These past 9 months have taught me what it really means to be a teacher.
This has been an incredible year in many, many ways. At one point, a thought danced across my mind: if it's been so incredible, how can you leave it behind? I can leave it behind because this was an intense year emotionally, mentally, and physically. Intensity is a wonderful thing; it can mold and shape people in ways they don't understand. But when pushed too far, intensity can break people. I don't want that to happen. After all the trials and tribulations of this year, I want to leave while I'm on top and not give this place a chance to turn on me. I need a break. I need normalcy. I need rest.
So, yes, I'm more than ready to return to a city and a life where I can walk down the street without heads turning to follow me and can maintain a healthy diet without a regimen of pills. I'm eager to reenter the lives of the people I've left behind time and again. I cannot wait for the slightly cooler weather. As happy as I am to be going home, there is a part of me that will be sad to leave this place. And it's not a small part, either.
When people ask, as they will, how my year was, I will never be able to fully convey my experience here or what it meant to me. But I do have a simple answer, one that will suffice for those passing inquiries: It was a good year. A very hard year, but a good one.
