Nothing left to do but leave.Posted: February 14, 2013
I went on an artist date to the Belize Zoo today and, on the bus ride back, saw this adorable little girl who seemed to love gazing out the window as much as I did.
I have one day left in Cayo. The next day, I take the bus to Belize City; the next, I take the plane home to Durham. I don’t really say goodbye. I don’t know how. I just leave what I love, and then see if what feels beloved stays beloved.
Which is to say, I won’t know if Cayo is my heart’s country unless I leave it for a time.
On the bus ride today I tried to think of all the things I’d miss about Belize. And there are far too many…like trying to gather up too many Christmas packages. As soon as I pick up one, another slips out. But for some reason I keep thinking of the streams of schoolchildren going home in the afternoon, hundreds of them, all in uniforms that identify their school: pink-and-brown, grey-and-yellow, or green-and-white. Is Cayo their heart’s country? Are we ever born in our heart’s country? Or do some of us have to spend our whole lives searching for the most resonant geography? What if I come back to Durham and find that I’m a dissonant body? What if I come back to Cayo, someday, and find the same?
The schoolchildren will always stream home. And pick up snacks along the way.