Time is a fickle. The seconds may be ticking away like agorrobino during the day, and yet weeks and months disappear without you knowing where they went. I’m coming up to my 2 years in Peru on September 11th, and it feels like just yesterday I was scrambling to fit everything I would need for two years in my three bags.
Time is discernible. I’ve been in Peru for the planting and harvesting of two corn seasons, two potato seasons, two pea seasons. I’ve been here for two town festivals, for two rainy seasons. I’ve gotten paint thrown in my face for two carnival celebrations, and have my favorite students graduate to the next grade twice. I’ve witnessed three generations of pigs being born. I’ve seen a once pregnant woman now help your son walk.
Time is biased. When I first got to Peru, I was couldn’t wait for the weeks to be over. It took all my strength to leave my room during the day and talk to people in my bumbling Spanish and try to figure out what exactly I was supposed to be doing. The only way to get through that loneliness and confusion was to have something schedule in the coming weeks so that I could countdown the days. But now, I am wishing time would go in reverse. I find that my days are slipping away before me and I can’t do anything to stop it.
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