la ultima semana

my last week in tehuacan is bearing down on me now.

i can feel it, edging its way into my bed at night, haunting me.

and then i wake up and try to forget about it, but it won't leave me alone.

in order to alleviate the pain/excitement/joy/relief/happiness/sadness

which is starting to feel more like an anvil of emotion, rather than words,

i'm going to write something for every last day that i'm here.

starting today.

conference in a small room, baptismal font filling up slowly behind me.

cars honking outside, american missionaries reminding me of 17-year-olds.

watermelon with lots of seeds.

it's hot, i can feel my hair pasting itself to my back. oh hair, why don't i cut you off.

but i change my mind again. other people's wedding pictures can be very persuasive.

another mexican party, as soon as we arrived the lights began flashing

i'm used to being a celebrity because of my skin color

but this time it was God moving furniture

loud and beautiful, followed with rain, blessed rain.

oregon flashbacks, always accompany rain.

I was the only one standing in it, everyone else underneath the garage.

lots of Mexicans staring, I kept dancing. Even in my ruined clothes.

All my clothes are ruined.

I'm glad, though. It means I don't have to take them with me,

I get to leave a piece of myself behind, the old self.

while I'm dancing in a circle with Mexicans who have hips,

I notice that I'm dancing too, but I'm not caring

about everyone watching {and everyone is watching}

just like the rain, I've fallen into a place

I didn't expect

And it absorbed me.