A Day in the Life

Wake up about the same time I usually go to sleep.
Hug mom and dad.
Board a plane head south, way south.
Eat my peanuts, drink my ginger ale, memorize Sky Mall.
Look out the window.
Notice the turquoise Carribean Sea, see the outline of the Barrier Reef.
Arrive at the airport.
Feel the heat, the humidity.
Think to myself, “What am I doing here?”
Meet my new family.
Throw my four months worth of gear in the back of an old beat-up school bus.
Board the bus full of strangers, pick a seat, watch intently out the window.
Head west, almost to Guatemala.
5 miles from home, bus breaks down.
Think to myself, “What am I doing here?”
Walk a few hundred yards, jump on a tightly packed local bus.
I’m “home.”
Step off the bus, wait for 19 others to unload.
Walk the half mile driveway, a dark, bumpy, country road.
Pass horses, cows, sheep, chickens.
Open the gate and see my name on a cabin.
Turn my key.
It’s cute, it’s quaint, there’s a scorpion on my pillow.
Quickly set up mosquito net.
I hear a bell ring, an old school house bell.
Dinner. Rice and Beans, stewed chicken, plantains, lime juice.
Compost my scraps, wash my dish, walk around curiously.
Sit down on the grass with my new family.
Thousands of stars light up the sky.
Think to myself, “What am I doing here?”