The Beautifully Unexpected Good

"My sisters and my brothers, see them like no other
All my favorite colors
A good day to be, a good day for me, a good day to see my favorite colors
Colors
My sisters and my brothers, they see them like no other
All my favorite colors"
 - Colors, by The Black Pumas


One year ago today, I stood in the living room of Casa Gabriel, tears streaming down my face as I said goodbye to the boys for the last time. My brother Huck had brought candies from the US and we bought ice cream on the walk down the hill from my apartment. We made ice cream sundaes, eating in the living room while outside, it began to pour. Huck sat among the boys, laughing and joking with Carlos and David, whom he'd met that week, so at ease in the midst of what had been my world for over five years.

We said goodbye and were driven up the hill in the rain. Further goodbyes followed, all the way to the airport: by the time we were checking the luggage, my contacts were foggy from crying. My face and heart a mess, Huck nodded at me, smiling, saying "It's okay buddy." Patient and understanding. He had flown down a few days prior, taking off work to help me move back. We spent a few days doing touristy things in and outside of the city; showing him why I loved the place, and saying a final goodbye. On our second to last day, he insisted we cancel the excursion I had planned in lieu of packing and weighing my final suitcases. I had carefully completed most of it the week before, but on that day, he gave up sightseeing in favor of sitting on my mattress on the floor (the bed had been sold) and showing me the most efficient way to roll and pack clothes.
"Mom showed me," he explained. "Aren't you glad we're getting this done, instead of you stressing about it tonight?'
His presence and help meant more than words can say.

After the red-eye flight, our connection in Houston landed us in Austin a little earlier than expected. I suggested we stop and grab coffee, but Huck scanned the airport cafe and said, "Eh, the line is long. We'll get coffee later. Come on." He knew who was waiting.

From the escalator, I spotted a sign with my name, and began to realize that the group of people below were all ones I knew. My heart burst. I cried all the way down the escalator, in what was one of the happiest days of my life.

What followed was one of the happiest of years. There were difficult moments, as is the case in all of life. Moments of doubt, but never doubt for having had returned to the US. It was time, and the gift which I've held close is that over and over again I felt the decision to return confirmed. Yes, it was hard to say goodbye, to people and places I had grown to love, yet it was time to return. Yes, it was hard to transition back, yet I found that the most daunting part was the unknown of when I was still in Ecuador, looking ahead to the US. I spent weeks editing my resume and sending it out, along with personalized cover letters. Would I get a job easily, or would it be a struggle? Would something come along which excited me, or would I have to take whatever I could get? In the end, I was able to chose the job I wanted. With everything else, I took it one step at a time: getting a US cell phone again, getting used to driving, buying a car, dealing with reserve culture shock, and finding an apartment with one of my sisters, who needed a change and was looking for a similar place as I. It was strange to feel as though I was starting all over again; all of these basic things of being an adult in the US, things which had securely been mine just six years prior, but which I was now faced with accumulating all over again. Yet, strange as it was, it was all okay. It was better than I could have imagined.

I was prepared for it to be hard, yet in the midst of transition, I found such utter joy. It was bliss to be with my siblings and parents again, bliss to drive through the rolling hill country under the giant Texas sky, bliss to kayak on lakes and rediscover the places I was from. It was a delight to set up an apartment with my sister, and has been a continued delight and blessing to live with her. I am so completely grateful for the time we have together; our different lives converge, and it is oh so sweet.

I have a tendency to try and over-plan out of concern for what's ahead. I like control, and would rather be active than passive. The past year has been a reminder to myself to not become steeped in worry over the unknown. As my pastor says, "Don't let what you don't know rob you of what you do know." Yes, I knew who and what I was leaving, and my heart was heavy. But what I also knew was who I'd be returning to. The what (job and more), would work itself out, and did. It beautifully did, again and again and for that I say thank you, thank you, thank you.