The past two days (today and yesterday) have been some of the most physically and emotionally challenging days of the summer.
And yet they were wonderful all at the same time.
Yesterday, a group of us set out to Los Pinos on Jenny Cobb's house crew. We got to the site and saw that there was going to be a little bit of a downhill struggle to get the wood and the tools to the site, but it was nothing worse than anything I've seen so far this summer. No, the challenge was what we found when we got to the site: a six foot slope of solid rock. Normally we can just elevate the floor and ignore the slope, but this slope was so extreme that we had to chisel it out with bars and pick axes.
And did I mention it was solid rock?
So the first three or so hours of the house site was purely just swinging heavy metal objects at rock. Twenty minutes of driving a bar will melt your arms into jell-o, let me just go ahead and tell ya'. But eventually we lowered the slope a couple of feet and were able to start digging post-holes. Still, we blew so much time working with the rock that we were only able to get all of the 4x4 and 2x4 posts in, and then it was time to leave.
But this morning, the "bufftruck" crew loaded up in Guillermo's mini-bus and headed back to Los Pinos to finally tackle what was honestly the most difficult house site I've ever seen. Mark Connell eventually showed up and helped us out GREATLY, but the crew itself was a powerful, cohesive team, and we finished up by about 1:30 in the afternoon. It was a TOUGH house to finish, but extremely rewarding to finally get done with. Then, a few of us went with Victor, probably my best friend in all of Honduras (he always asks where I am when Gringos show up on the mountain, he never begs for stuff like the other kids, and he always helps on EVERY house site in Los Pinos, and never gets paid except for whatever stuff we might give him), to go visit his house. It was a small hut, maybe 20x16, with a half separating wall in the middle and Victor said it was where he
and his ten brothers and sisters
lived. It was amazing to finally see my best friend's house (he's been asking me to come visit for a long time), and we just sat and looked at family pictures and talked with him. Will and Jenny left them their shoes for him and his family, and then it was time to go.
Here comes the heart-wrenching part.
All of the kids were well aware that it was our last day in Los Pinos for the year. And some of the ones that I was closest to (Wilson, Victor, Josilyn, and Keydi) even knew that it was probably my last day in Los Pinos ever. So when it was time to get on the bus, there was this swarm of children around our work crew. But they were no mob; they begged for nothing; they were silent. They just stood there, wanting to hug every one of us several times, and tell us that they loved us. So after five years of coming to TORCH, and spending the majority of those years working in Los Pinos with these children, the day had finally come to say, "Goodbye." And it was much harder than I expected. I don't know if I squeezed too hard, but I definitely gave each of those kids the biggest hugs I could. I told them that I loved them. I told them that I'd miss them.
And then I got on the bus.
And I will never forget their faces, running alongside the bus, smiling and waving (all the while fighting back the rest of their tears) and telling us, "Adios."
"Adios..."
Adios, Los Pinos. Adios.
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