I am oddly ready, but deeply sad that I have to leave. It is always hard to leave. And al final del cuento, it's always because of the people, for me. As I fly over the city in a few days, as I lay in my Edinboro bed in a few nights, I will think of and miss the romantic little callejones, the sound of Mariachi and the slow pace of México in full bloom...but far more I will be remembering and wondering what my dear friends are doing. Maybe they'll be passing the time in our quaint little café, maybe they'll be sitting on the roof telling stories or dancing or cooking or doing homework or watching a movie. But I will long to be with them. I really love these guys. At the end of the story, a gigantic part of life is sharing it with the people in our path. Knowing and loving each other, listening and laughing and eating and playing together. Enjoying each others' presence, encouraging and helping one another, learning together, adventuring on paths unknown.
In a way, I don't understand why we are allowed to have such deep love for people that we soon have to leave. It is so darn difficult! But as my friend Noé and I rode back on the night bus from Guadalajara the other night, I told him that I didn't think limited time was such a bad thing, because it makes us sure not to miss a beat, to drink deeply of every moment and to take advantage of all of the opportunities to really know people. I feel like I got to know some of my friends here more in the past week than for the whole 5 months I've been here, because we know we have to part ways. We just lay it all out there. And I'll tell you what, I really love it. And I love the way we change each other, the way we are meant to live together in fellowship with people because it is a JOY and we are molded into wiser, stronger, better lovers.
'Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another.' Romans 12:15-16
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