Thursday, December 3, 2009

Newly Revised Essay


Some say it happens over a long period of time. Some say it happens after their first love. Some believe it happens when you move out and you're on your own. And for some it never happens. But for me, I became a man the day I left Virginia Beach for the very undervalued country of Honduras. The trip still remains so evident from the first steps off the plane to the last time I inhaled that dry honduran air. The trip was the spring break of my sophomore year. And for me, I had dreamed of being paralyzed on my couch as I watch T.V. , ate food, and slept as much as I pleased. But my parents had something else planned, and it didn't involve cheese puffs and season 3 of Seinfeld. The trip that I dreaded so much, indirectly, had easily been the best vacation that a 16 year old high school student could ask for.


The first moments in Honduras were full of frustration and confusion. Aside from the fact that I hated the spanish language, I never thought I would find myself in the crossfire of spanish dialect in the middle of an airport. I remember scanning the room hoping that there was someone that spoke a lick of english, as I waited so impatiently for my brother to pick me up. My brother was a missionary down there, and luckily spoke fluent english and spanish. He finally reached me before I drowned in the unfamiliar waters of the Honduran airport. We hopped inside of the beat up jeep that would bring us back to where we would be staying. In the United States, they teach us how to drive safely and follow road signs and regulations. If you could break every rule or law that the U.S. set up, you would thrive on the streets of Honduras. I never thought I would climb out of that car with all my limbs still attached, but we did.


Spending little time in the shelter that we slept at, we have a full plate ahead of us. Rarely, I had time to stop and think about where I was, and what I was doing. It was a non-stop itinerary, and something I was not expecting. We went around to villages to help those in need of resources and health attention. In retrospective, I thought that I would be most moved by the intense experiences. But, I wasn't. It was the petty things that had the most affect on me. One very clear image I have is of this little girl that had been shy and was left out of the rest of the kids groups. She attempted to climb up this mango tree that would have been merely impossible for Yao Ming to even climb. But she was determined to reach the fruit at the top of the tree. She spent all afternoon climbing, refusing help from anyone. She finally had become an arms length away from one of the fat, juicy mangos. It dangled and so did she, as she leaped and clinched onto the fruit as she hit the ground below her with much force. As I expected her to sink her small little teeth into the huge mango, she began to hesitate. She then headed over to where I was sitting and approached with the mango held out to me. She placed it into my hands and gave me a hug. That's when I realized so much. I realized I was free from a cellphone, email, Television, and all the other technology that I consumed my time with back at home. I had never felt so free in my life. And that's when I knew what life was really suppose to feel like. The trip had reached its hiatus and felt like it would never digress. Or at least, when I found myself in the airport again but this time I was leaving.


I threw my bags on the scanner debating if I wanted to just stay in Honduras and never return. Too bad I had two more years of dreadful high school to finish. I left Honduras convinced that I would return again. I came back to Virginia Beach changed forever. I left as a boy, and came back as a man


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