What happens when an MK started on the old country

Well, the end of the semester is approaching. Grades look like they will be bloody, might wind up taking Circuits again. Should be able to come out with a 3.4 for the year though, if I do well in the spring and I take Circuits again. I can't wait to go home. Just want to go home where they have a real winter and curl up in front of the pellet stove with a good book. Get a game of RISK going with the guys. Go visit a wrestling practice. See the family. It'll be wonderful. Then of course I'll get to start the whole thing over in three weeks, this time with Dynamics. I'm actually looking forward to the class a little. That's a scary thought.
I was thinking about Haiti the other day. I remember looking out at the sky and watching the black clouds roll in from the east, so black that they looked dark blue. The downpours that we had at night durring the rainy season. Playing in the drainage ditches, building rock dams nad pools. Playing barefoot basketball out behind Eckhoff's. Finally realizing that wearing shoes when playing basketball would keep your little toe from getting torn up, and thinking that it really did feel weird to wear shoes like that. I can remember the first time that I ever used a Brittanica Encyclopaedia, to write a report on British Columbia. Sitting on the sofa reading the Lord of the Rings for days on end the year that Eckhoff's were on furlough and we were in the field. Reading the Shiloh Legacy. Sitting at the coumputer and playing a Privateer with three people. Riding my bike on the dirt roads, racing the taxis back home. Going up to visit Aunt Lois just to pet Betsy.Wacthing movies on the inverter, when the power was off and just having it feel so strange. Playing Philip's home built Country Game. Sitting up in the BGT and having Philip tell me that could only carry three gallons of water while we were playing comandos, because water weighs 8 pounds per gallon.Walking down on the beach nad competeing to find the most unique peice of sea glass. Playing Marco Polo in the BGT with Eckhoff's, and having mom make a point of not watching us. The dirt clod wars. The Thursday afternoons spent playing volleyball. Standing in line to get pricked for malaria. Taking chloroquine on Sunday afternoons (or avoiding taking cholorouine on Sunday afternoons). Walking up to Nom Bono on Sunday mornings to hear dad preach. Being blown away by the awesome view from the top of the mountain. And realizing, toward the end, just how blessed I was to to have been born and MK.
Those were the days. Wish I could go back. Not worry about the papers, the projects, the people, all the other small details of life. Not have days when you just want to take refuge from the problems of life in sleep. Not feel the pain of knowing that you can never go back to your home, that while the place is still there, it is not the same. People have moved, people have grown older, people have died. You just can't go back. I can remeber crying the day that aunt Will went back to the Netherlands. I can remember hugging my sister the day she flew in country to spen Christmas break with us here senior year, and being genuinely glad to see her. I can remember the mixture of sadness and excitement that I felt on that day in May of 2000 when we left for Haiti for good. Sad to leave my friends, but knowing at the same time that we would all be going our separate was soon enough anyway. Excited for all the opportunities that I would have going to school in the US. Being able to wrestle again, take up old friendships. Looking forward to the new place, and the new experiences that I would have.
I can remeber the first day that Jon Rorer showed up at teh door with his three little Westies, wanting to go for a walk down the creek. Looking back now, I think that was a turning point in my life. I never knew thenthat we would grow to be such good friends. I can't even begin to measure the impact that he has had on my life. His simple honesty and good heart have done me a lot of good. And his wacky sense of humor. I really don't believe that I would ever have adjusted to the life in the US and made the friends that I did if it wasn't for Rorer.
I can remeber sitting in the van going up to Stoney Brook, listening to Painter tell stories. Being amazed by Tom Howard when he wrestled up a 100 pounds against Girard's heavyweight. The stories that Mr Leach told from the year that he had six wrestlers, aka "the six pack" year. I can still remeber the feeling of wining my first medal. Pinning two guys with the headlock at the VFMA quad meet. Pinning the Germantown wrestler in exhibition. Spending my senior year getting played with after we went PIAA. I think most memorable was the meet agains Red Lion, and having it hinge on my match. I felt awful going in, but when I pinned the guy, that was the most awesome feeling in the world. That was the one meet that we won that season. We almost beat one of the smaller public schools in our league, but we spent most of the season being shut out. We took 2nd or 3rd in our invite, that was nice.
It's good to remincse sometimes. Helps me realize how blessed I have been, first with my family in Haiti, being able to go to a school like DC, and finally winding up at LU like I did. There really must be a God in heaven if an MK like me can come so far. Anyway, it is dinner time and I need to get some food. Be seeing you.