If every journey begins with a dream, then my journey to Honduras began midsummer 2004 under the corn yellow sun in the blue-skyed depths of California. A freshly finished schoolboy, scrony by all standards, is mowing the lawn. Verde. That's Spanish for green; even then I knew that.
Mowing the lawn is a great time to think about things like the meaning of life and whether or not you'll ever fall in love. Amidst the labyrinth of synapses fusing and neurons firing like war canons, a curious thought befall this laboring youth. Sometimes thoughts happen like that. They fall out of the sky and into your heart like lightning, or sneak up on you like a sudden chord from a piano when you thought you were in an empty room.
The boy cried for no more thana few minutes. He cried because he thought that one day he would leave his home to travel and help people. He thought he would be lonely and scared. He cried because he wanted to go, becasue he did not want to, because he thought maybe he was supposed to go. He wasn't wrong.
So.
Dreams are funny things. Sometime you fly. Sometimes you worry or talk. You die a lot; or may be you don't. Sometime the people you love the most die. Sometimes the people who are supposed to love you betray you. Sometimes you travel to impossible worlds. Sometimes you kiss someone you've never met. Sometimes dreaming is better than real life, there are more butterflies in dreams you know. Mariposas. Sometimes you dream the same dream so many times it comes true. Sometimes you have to make your dreams come true, or they sit in your bones like led. So.
Off I go to Honduras. For many reasons. I think somewhere, perhaps vainly, I hope that I will be doing some good, for someone... somewhere. I hope to have a grand old adventure. I hope not to miss my loved ones too much. I hope you will all enjoy my adventures and forgive any spelling mistakes as I transition from English to Spanish (it is likely I will forget how to spell our overly complicated language). Your prayers and support are appreciated, and I hope my adventure will thrill you (and me) beyond our wildest, happiest dreams.
Mowing the lawn is a great time to think about things like the meaning of life and whether or not you'll ever fall in love. Amidst the labyrinth of synapses fusing and neurons firing like war canons, a curious thought befall this laboring youth. Sometimes thoughts happen like that. They fall out of the sky and into your heart like lightning, or sneak up on you like a sudden chord from a piano when you thought you were in an empty room.
The boy cried for no more thana few minutes. He cried because he thought that one day he would leave his home to travel and help people. He thought he would be lonely and scared. He cried because he wanted to go, becasue he did not want to, because he thought maybe he was supposed to go. He wasn't wrong.
So.
Dreams are funny things. Sometime you fly. Sometimes you worry or talk. You die a lot; or may be you don't. Sometime the people you love the most die. Sometimes the people who are supposed to love you betray you. Sometimes you travel to impossible worlds. Sometimes you kiss someone you've never met. Sometimes dreaming is better than real life, there are more butterflies in dreams you know. Mariposas. Sometimes you dream the same dream so many times it comes true. Sometimes you have to make your dreams come true, or they sit in your bones like led. So.
Off I go to Honduras. For many reasons. I think somewhere, perhaps vainly, I hope that I will be doing some good, for someone... somewhere. I hope to have a grand old adventure. I hope not to miss my loved ones too much. I hope you will all enjoy my adventures and forgive any spelling mistakes as I transition from English to Spanish (it is likely I will forget how to spell our overly complicated language). Your prayers and support are appreciated, and I hope my adventure will thrill you (and me) beyond our wildest, happiest dreams.
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