I finally faced returning home from South America. I’m back in Canada. I’m so sad! Why am I not still in South America? Why did I buy a return ticket?
The flights to Houston and Toronto were comfortable. In Houston, I changed my soles into American dollars to buy some lunch. I had lots of money when I left Peru: 30 soles is enough for three meals and probably a pack of smokes, too. It translated to six dollars and eighty-five cents at the currency exchange, and of course, airports are ridiculously expensive, so I’m coming home with twenty cents. Sigh.
I didn’t cry when I left Peru. I thought that was very odd, considering how strong my feelings of despondency were.
When I got to Toronto, first thing I did after clearing customs and getting my luggage was to go outside for a smoke, naturally. I watched someone lifting something heavy over a curb and was about to offer him some help, but I was stopped dead in my tracks.
The words had come to me in Spanish and the realization had hit me: no one here speaks Spanish.
I felt tears welling inside me, but that’s when I saw my mother, who had come to meet me. So the tears never fell, but they were there. They existed.
And now I’m in Noëlville…