 |
| The cup my great-grandma used to serve cafe con leche to mom |
One of the memories that has stayed with me throughout life is my mom yelling at a guy unloading things from a bus rack in the border between Honduras and Guatemala. It's January of 1987; I am six. It's late afternoon, getting dark, and we have traveled a long way from Guatemala City. The trip had been postponed for days, because our car was broken, but it had finally been fixed. We were ready to move to Tegucigalpa, since my dad had been appointed pastor at a church in the city. As we were leaving, I remember carrying one of my most valuable possessions with me - a little book with a Mary Poppins story and the accompanying 45 rpm disc. I carefully set the record in the back of the car, so I wouldn't accidentally break it. We said our goodbyes. My grandparents, aunts and uncles were waving, and crying, as we were getting ready to drive away for the next ten hours to the new country that was to become our own.
