And it’s making my heart hurt a bit again, just from missing them.
I miss their smiles and laughter and obsessions with Garfield and who Zac Effron is going out with. I miss explaining long division over and over and playing marbles and telling them who’s turn it is on the red bike (the purple one was broken). I miss sneaking them tastes of chocolate while making choco-bananas and I miss standing outside washing up the evening dishes, eavesdropping on their random school gossip…which they thought I couldn’t understand.
Sure, living in a home with 12 little girls from very broken situations was exhausting and hard. And I remember hearing something once about how it’s best to keep an emotional distance.
But for me, spending 5 months living with a bunch of kids that don’t have that many people to love and care for them, meant that they completely wormed their way into my heart, flaws and all, and I feel a love for them that even I don’t understand. They feel like precious little sisters that I should be looking after, but can’t. I still remember how intense it was to say goodbye to them. I couldn’t stop crying for an hour.
I’m sure they’re fine; kids live in the moment and they are used to people coming and going. And I’m glad to be home looking after my health and heading off to uni.
But today, I really really wish Guatemala was a 36 minute journey instead of a 36 hour journey away so I could just pop in for a day of hugs and games and gifts and random conversations.
But I guess a parcel of stickers and lollies and photos will have to do for today.