19 and counting

It has been three months. But I’m on my way again. Under the silver bird I once again saw the clear blue Caribbean sea. Long swaths of dusty clouds filled the skyline ahead of us and to the side. Breaking up the blue, I saw the islands of Turks and Caicos.  We were close. Within the span of my finishing a soft white dinner roll we would be descending. And then we would be turning left and heading into the bay of Port au Prince. And I’d wage through the sea of people to find someone waiting to help me hoist my bags onto a cart and wheel them over the broken concrete and out to the car waiting for me. A car driven by a good friend waits to then deliver me to the sweetest little smile in the world, V’s.

The future trips filled my mind. The many times I planned to arrive on the island I love so much…the breeze I couldn’t wait to feel that surrenders me feeling right at home in the heat and the dust. The breeze that reminds me how hot I am even though it feels so good to break up the stagnating heat causing the drizzle down my spine.  These future trips are what I think of every time I land in Haiti. I dream of how I plan to bring my children home to see their motherland, home to see their families, home to feel the heartbeat of this beautiful country; those trips are drawing closer. As many times as I am en route to Haiti, I still find myself anxious to arrive and breathe her in again. The feel of Haitian ground under my feet is a comfort that is hard to describe. It feels like home. My self settles. My mind relaxes. I feel at ease even though I’m nearly a complete stranger to so many. Still the same, the familiar faces I hope to see remind me that I am in fact, home.

We touched down and I followed the format I have so many times before. There was the greeting coming off the plane. Then the band playing just prior to customs. And then there were conversations with the bag handlers who recognized me. And the woman who rents the luggage carts. There were the familiar smiles from the ladies selling Barbancourt. A familiar face inspects my extra large bags…and I sort of wonder if they shuttle me through this area intentionally so that I can say hello to more smiling and familiar faces. And they are always willing to hoist my 70 lb bags onto the table to insure I am not smuggling medications or half a cow into this country. More smiles when I purchase the unlimited wifi for my Haiti sim card at Natcom. I peel off the tape that permanently holds my swap card on the back of my phone case and replace it with my Verizon card. This has become old hat. It’s a small symbol of the shift I make when I come to this country. It might seem odd. But in this time with communication options, it still strikes me as neat that I have the opportunity to communicate so freely here.  A few minutes after negotiating through the process, I was ready to begin my latest adventure in Haiti.

The piercing bright ball of fire in the sky seemed closer than ever when I emerged the building to look for the smiling face of my friend. And then he waved and the joy of seeing him was another reminder that I am so lucky to have made such beautiful friendships in this country. This man is like a father to my child. His wife, like a mother. They not only care for her now, but I know that they will be like family to us always.  We cover the basics of conversation while we follow the patterns and turns of the roads to find our way to the quiet neighborhood where my heart is nestled.  Along the way I found myself so happy to have a good conversation with a friend who lives his life for others; like my daughter. And in doing so, he and his wife live their life for my happiness. Because without them doing so, there is no possibility of my sanity. Thank you, God, for these people.

The new wall is almost finished. And the gate that keeps everyone safe opens…and we have arrived. She is one more door away. Oh the joy I feel when she walks toward me. The adjustment my eyes need to go from the brightness of the sun to the shaded inside of the building gives me a brief delay in seeing her. But she sees me right away. She is prepared. They have told her I’m coming. And she watched the door. She walked over to me and looked to search for familiarity. It took her a few minutes of sitting with me, freshly powdered neck, soft smell of fresh lotion, and perfect little twists in her now long hair (a huge sign of her improved nourishment and resulting health). Her big eyes searched with their little twinkle of old soul…and it clicked. “Mommy.” She said it with confidence and comfort. And she sat on my lap and filled my heart with the kind of overflowing love that melts me every single time.

Mommy is home, love. Mommy is home. 19 times and counting.