Well, friends, I am writing from my cold room in Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts. It's been just over 10 hours since I flew out of Haiti and it already seems like a dream. I walked into my room with all the photos of my kids on my wall and it honestly feels like it's been months since I saw them. My life is split between two realities that never fully connect. How could I possibly be sitting here in luxury when just this morning I was squashed between 2 teenage boys on a thin mattress on the roof of a beat-up concrete block building? I don't know how they felt all day, but I have only felt one thing: agony. Yes, I am being melodramatic, but if you could see their faces when they are hugging me good-bye, if you could see the absolute joy when they see me for the first time, if you could sense how utterly at ease they are with me, then you would know what I mean. I am so glad that I had the chance to go, but a part of me keeps whispering, "Keziah, if you hadn't gone, you wouldn't be sitting here crying right now." To which I answer, "If I hadn't gone......" A million different answers could finish that thought. But the one that I hope is the most true goes like this: "If I hadn't gone, their Christmas would not have been quite so special."
Since I did not have internet access during the majority of my stay, I kept a draft form of a journal in my computer of everything that happened over the holidays. Tomorrow, I will start posting those memories and the photos that accompany them. For now, I am going to cry myself to sleep because I can't give those 60 adorable children the good night kisses that they are waiting for. Bon nwit, pitit mwen yo. Mwen renmen nou anpil.