HIDING
I wonder what this kid is doing in my room and I want him out.
It´s 8:15 PM and I am tired. But then I hear that the other kid is crying, yelling, and this one here wants out.
He has no choice, no fault really, in any of this.
And I´m doing okay. I don´t want out like he does.
This little girl, I saw her from the bus the next morning, sitting alone under a tree, watching. Waiting. 6:15 AM.
I don´t miss a car, Blackberries, labels, coffee shops, that shit. Like I used to? I hated that shit in the States. I hate it here.
I think my pregnant host-sister wants out too, judging by her face when I gave her a pair of earrings.
The best way out is through, as Robert Frost said. I believe that. Push through the hard times, submit yourself to your culture, be at home here, find home in the unfamiliar.
But I am wanting out I guess. But I am happy here. Just talking, you know, talking with people I know. Day by day. I am just so damn distracted sometimes.
They say, a sort of legend, that Salvadorans are the spirits of deer. Timid, soft, curious. Scared, humble, gentle. They do not run around saying I love you like in the soap operas. They view it all as stage comedy. It is in their eyes. I believe the legend.
I see Snoop on the the TV in Chalchuapa. What is he doing? I wanna rock? Really? What is that video about man?
If I wanted out, where would I go? Where do I go from here? There are no clean breaks here.
