Departure for Guatemala is in days. This is where I’ll be for three months: http://www.sanlucasmission.org/
These parting words are telling of what I most love about my family.
Kyle said it simple, “So, are you ready to get the fuck out of here?”
And if you know my twin, then you know that Kyle sounded more like this: “Sahw, ‘r ya ready ta ghet the fuck outta hehr?” He says this to me in his scratchy voice, as he’s wearing his Ray Ban’s, and driving the boat. That’s Kyle: simple, chillin’, in control, likes nice stuff, on-the-fly, and perhaps a little brooding. These are the things I love about Kyle. (Oh, and also the fact that if he actually reads this, he’ll probably roll his eyes at that last sentence…and yep, that makes me smile.)
Brother Reid. Humorous and a bit aloof, if the topic is serious, sad, or personal, he doesn’t like to talk about it too much or for too long. But an observer, he sees more than most. He’s insightful and lets people be. Funny, sensitive, and way laid back, his company is easy and always a good time. Reid is peaceful and kind, an easy person to be with and to love. Conversations with him are lighthearted, sarcastic, relaxed, and direct when need be.
He says to me, “Just get there. And be safe.”
My brother Ryan is a whole other story. He’s got his ideas and thoughts, and whatever you’ve got to say, well that can come later. That’s not to say he isn’t a good listener. He’s probably one of the best listeners I know. But he also believes he’s more often right than not, and because of that, he thinks he should be heard first. And you know what (though I wouldn’t be so quick to tell him this), as the parental older brother, he is indeed insightful, bright, and does have the wisdom and experience that usually makes him right. (But, shhh, don’t tell him I said that.)
So this is what Ryan says to me (and if you don’t infer this from the conversation, then let me tell you: he’s a bit protective of his “little” 23-year-old sister.)
Ryan: So where are you going?
Me: It’s an hour or so west of Guatemala City.
Ryan: You have to stay in Guatemala City one night by yourself? Did you know that’s a dangerous place? You have to know your surroundings. Have you been talking to the people there? Do you know what to bring? Do you have a cell phone?
Me: Yeah, I have—
Ryan interrupts me: I’ll tell you what you should do. You’re paying to go down there, tell them to book your hotel. They can at least do that. This isn’t some casual thing; you’re a girl traveling alone. That’s not safe. I’ll call them if they haven’t. Do you want me to call them? I’ll call them. They should have this shit organized.
Me: No, Ryan, don’t call—
Interrupted again, Ryan says: Do you know who you’re driving with out to the Mission? What the vehicle looks like? The person’s name? You should be asking them this. Do you want me to call them? I’ll call them.
Me: No, don’t, Ryan. Yeah, I have—
Ryan again: What do you have to protect yourself? You know, you’re going to stick out as a tall blonde. You have to be aware of who’s around you. Are you bringing Mace or something?
Me: Yeah, and a knife.
Ryan: What? A knife? You’ll probably hurt yourself with a knife. You have to be careful. Maybe just the Mace.
Me: OK.
And that’s how those kinds of conversations have to end with Ryan. Just say, “OK.” Just agree. Otherwise, it could go on and on. But his concern is his interest, is his love. And that’s what I love about Ryan, his: instincts to protect and to provide, smarts and negotiation skills, common sense, loyalty, and most of all…his sense of adventure. For in the end, I knew Ryan would say this:
“Arrrgh, Kel, you’re gonna have a good time; I think it will be good for you. It’s one of the most beautiful countries I’ve been to. Make sure you go to Lake Atitlan, Antigua, see the ruins…” And again he continues with his brotherly advice, and telling me what he thinks I should do.
Then Andrea (my sister-in-law), after patiently and intently listening to Ryan, (and knowing that I don’t need another “lecture”) says in her enthusiastic and compassionate manner: “It’s going to be amazing, Kelly! But be safe, okay. And send me e-mail’s when you can. We love you.”
And Holly (Reid’s girlfriend), a genuine and sensitive person (and another much welcomed sister amongst all the Horazdovsky brothers), has a way of making a person feel needed and included. Perhaps it’s vain to want to be missed, but I’m happy when she says to me: “Kelly, I’m going to miss you! I want to see you before you go, I love you.”
Driving in the car, my dad says to me with a sigh, “What am I going to do with you; now I have three months to worry about you.”
Then he and my uncle begin to discuss as if I’m not sitting in the backseat.
Dad: She could bring that bear Mace that she got in Montana last summer.
Me: Dad, that’s the size of a hairspray bottle, and I don’t know if it’s legal to use on people. Really this place is safe.
Dad: Who cares!
Uncle Bruce: She’ll probably want a smaller one though, easier to carry around. The knife’s not a bad idea.
Dad: (sigh)
Uncle Bruce: Why can’t she just get a Taser? Put some distance between her and the attacker.
Dad: (sigh)
Then the concerned words of my mother:
“You know Kelly, you don’t have to go. You can just stay home. Is this necessary? This seems so extreme. You’ve been traveling so much. I worry. You could just stay home. Why don’t you just stay home?”
The reasons I love my parents are infinite. Even the things that frustrate me about them, I know that I love, because without them they wouldn’t be who they are. But sometimes their worry gets overwhelming, and especially my mother, who gets a bit irrational. Daily, she’s been asking me a dozen questions, and telling me about all the bad dreams and thoughts she’s been having of “what could happen to me.” She worries as if I’m going into a war zone! But I’m not going into a war zone. The place I’m going is a relatively safe and stable community.
And I tell my mom, “I’m aware of the risks, and I’ll be safe. But I want to go. I’m just trying to see places and meet people, do something good, be changed, gain perspective. There’s nothing tying me down, I feel free; this is what I feel moved to do.
No comments:
Post a Comment