I visited my old Spanish class this evening.
The NU class that I took with my father three years ago, when the whole Moving to Mexico for a Year thing was a vague concept.
I loved that class.
Loved the professor.
Still talk to her, catch up with her, visit her occasionally.
Stevy is in the class right now, which gave me a good excuse to visit.
It was fun.
Just like I remembered it.
And, for a moment, as I sat in exactly the same little desk that I sat in three years ago, I thought about Mexico.
Thought about the Casa Hogar, and about Kenia, and about Manuel and Tere.
And then I did a mental count down of the months until my next potential stint in Mexico, and it suddenly seemed very soon.
And a little bit of the sense of “rightness” that I feel while I’m there welled up inside me.
And my heart kind of squeezed and swelled at the same time. And I wanted to jump and hug someone very tightly.
But I didn’t, because I was sitting quietly in my old Spanish class.
And then we moved on to something else and my mind moved right along with the class, and Mexico faded from the forefront of my mind.
But it didn’t fade that far, because something so close to one’s heart can’t really get very far from one’s mind.
~Natalia
