Just saying….

It’s paradise.

I’m at the Corn Islands, with my bestie Maribel, and her kids; and my cousin Brandon; and my Mom. They’ve all gone to sleep, but I’m still at the lodge, listening to the bright blue waves crash upon the white sand beaches below me, and chewing on the ice leftover from my tropical mango-lime drink.

Its been a week full of emotions. First the vols leaving. Then the Participatory Evals with youth. Hearing about community evals from sups. Sending sups on their ways into the world after a night of dancing. Hugging Tanika goodbye, pretending we’ll see each other soon for apple juice and broken internet. Mom coming, Maribel deciding to come to Little Corn, demanding they let Maribel’s five year old daughter on the plane to Little Corn even though there were no spaces….

It’s an amazing thing, to ride in the airplane with a five yr old who is on her first plane ride. As we lifted into the air, Yasira screamed, “Chelsey, estamos en el cielo!/chelsey, we’re in the sky!” and then… “Chelsey, las casas parecen de hormigas!/Chelsey, the houses look like ant houses!” And upon arrival to our cabin on little corn, “Chelsey, que maravilla es la vida aqui!/Chelsey, how incredible IS life here!” And then, in the ocean, “Look what I learned to do! Hold my breath when the waves come, and jump!”

I just hope we’re all able, me included, to approach life with such gusto and energy and wonder.

And so here I sit, them all asleep, listening to gentle waves crash. Palm trees waving, and the moon illuminating the water. People I love are fast asleep, and I am listening to research interviews, editing photos, and getting ready to read what my Mom and I call a “junk book.”*  Couldn’t, and doesn’t really get better. And my computer will soon die, so off to read junk books and listen to the ocean!

Buenas noches….

 

*(For those of you who don’t know, this is a book that you can get lost in, requires zero thinking, generally has embossed lettering and you can buy in an airport. This name was initiated by my parental units when I was a kid- for every junk book, I had to read a “quality” book. A quality book was like the Hardy Boys, or the Boxcar Children, or Little House on the Prairie. It was not Babysitters Club, Sweet Valley High, or Pippi. Another time, we can get into the gendered merritts of these qualifications).

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