Ha! My Peace Corps service ended so long ago that I went back to visit. Eight months after journeying from Paraguay to the US, I traveled backward for a Paraguayan friend’s wedding.
I cried when I finished my service and left the land of the Guarani—mostly because I didn’t know when I would return. I told my Paraguay friends, many of whom are more family than friends, that I would come back. I wondered if I was lying.
Well, I was honest. I went back. Sooner than expected, but love has no timeline and I swore I’d go back for my friend’s wedding. I was a bridesmaid. The bride was a vision. If my friend’s married life is half as lovely as she was on her wedding day, she scored big time.
It takes more than a day to travel from Vermont to Paraguay. It’s a journey of planes and buses. But, it’s worth it. And, now that I’ve done it once, I know I can do it again.
I think one of the loveliest things about going back was how little things had changed. Sure, there’s some new paint here and there. Many of my students graduated high school this year. My friends continue their lives, making changes like tying the knot. But, the important things carry on the same—perhaps indefinitely. The heat engulfs you when you step out of the airport. The sun sparkles in the sky, making the colors of life dazzle. My friends laugh easily and every Paraguayan offers food or terere. The people. The people of Paraguay are so warm. That’s the best part. They are so generous. I hope they always will be.
I spent the days drinking terere and gossiping about town happenings. I took siestas when the sun was too strong. I visited. I prepared all the little things that make a party a party—the frame for taking selfies at the wedding. Packaging the guest wedding gifts.
My Paraguayan friends welcomed me like family. They made room for me. My Paraguayan sisters gave up their beds for the days I was there. I shared meals that my favorite señoras cooked.
I saw the sun shine through the mango trees. I realized that as long as my friends are there, Paraguay will be a second home. And while my soul continues to wander, it is reassuring to know that yet another place I love will always be home. They say home is where the heart is. The euphemism is a smoothing of the reality. The heart can be like an electron. More than one place at once. My heart is divided in two. I imagine that it will split more as I fall in love with other peoples and their lands. And, now that I’ve learned a bit more about the odd natures of electrons (thank you pre-med curriculum), I’m okay with the uncertainty of where my heart actually is—I, at least, know the path on which I’m most likely to find it.