Where we are

This climate here is unforgiving. You must pay attention. First, you notice the altitude, slowing your footsteps down. Next, the hot sun undisturbed in its path. The vegetation is low to the ground, perhaps it’s also trying desperately to move away from the sun. The only shade comes from the eaves of houses. My thirst cannot be quenched here. My lips are cracked, my skin chapped. I lived in Colorado for many years which is also high in altitude, but somehow this is different. We move around this place intentionally and cautious.

“The climate here will make you sick,” people say. But they also say the change in food and water could also make you sick. We may not know. One thing for sure, it hit us with a vengeance, we recover little by little each day. I wonder if it will impact others who visit us.

Perhaps because the climate is tough, I feel much more connected to nature. I navigate through it or am thrust into it. I don’t seek it out, it seeks me out. We live near the cows, sheep, pigs, guinea pigs and chickens. Dogs and cats run wild here, surviving by instinct. The space is just as much the animals as the people’s.

Stepping outside of the house, we see others along our path. Companeros. People make eye contact and greet one another, stopping for a small conversation. Hugs and smiles are exchanged, the warmth of the people here is a comfort to me. We stick out, especially me with my white skin and red hair. “Gringa,” I hear in passing. It seems to merely be an observation made. “Gordito,” they call our baby. He is a bit bigger than other babies I see here.

The boys still ask for home. Enzo wants McDonald’s. They grasp for something familiar. Abuelita brought home animal crackers yesterday and the boys were thrilled. We buy them balloons at the little store. They are beginning to find their footing here, and the rhythms of the life here. The boys help me put the clothes on the line to dry once washed. We still read before bed. Our family is whole and for that I am grateful. For now, we must navigate a life between two poles, uncertainty and chaos on the one side, and love and joy on the other. I feel thrust from my home into a foreign place, yet I am grateful that we were able to land here. Our family won’t let us fail, and it gives me the strength to take another step each day. We still very much have work ahead of us. All we can do is plan for the very next day, our situation remains uncertain. Life is just that way, and this is no different.