There and Back

Sitting in the back of the immense white pickup, I thumped my way up the mountain towards our final destination in Guatemala, Semuc Champey.

My knuckles whitened as I gripped the edges of the truck. Each time we hit a pothole or hillock on the dirt road I felt myself bounce at least a foot into the air. The seatbeltless violence was beginning to take a toll on my sore rump so, to distract myself from my aching, I leaned sideways over the edge of the truck. Instantly, I could see how high we were – the villages and rain forests resembling lonely jewels tossed into a meadow. We hurtled up the mountain, the roaring of the irate howler monkeys and the whipping wind burned into my ears.

I inhaled the delicious mixture that so defined Guatemalan life; Exhaust fumes, damp grass, and sun-warmed soil. If these were the sights and sounds that were to be my only companions on our way to Semuc Champey, then so be it.

For four hours, I was able to see the sun move across the sky and cast shadows through the trees. The intermittence of the warmth that wrapped us as I observed the different hues of green blurring past was comforting.

Occasionally, in the valleys below, I would see small, solitary homes with large gardens in the back, clotheslines stretched between trees. How strange, that this place was where I was from. This place that felt alien to me, but was a part of who I was.

Reaching the crest of the mountain, the truck rolled to a stop. Crawling out of the back, I turned to look through the forests. There, beyond, was a vast plain of crystalline blue waters. Like liquid mirror, it skipped into ravines with reflections of the overhead trees falling into it. The only thing that broke the silence was the distant sound of spring streams. I looked at the spot where the sky met with the water. I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began, and I began to laugh. I began to laugh, because I was home.