Simpler Things

I have a blister on my little finger from washing towels. If you had told me about such an occurance a mere nine days ago, I would have chuckled and said such a thing was not possible. But now I know the truth--yesterday's bout with the washboard and our kitchen's thirty-some "toallas" was enough to cure me of my laughter... in one sense. On the other hand, after an afternoon with my body half in the sunshine and half in the cool washing water, I am that much more delighted.

I cannot tell you how many times already I have walked into the room I (will) share with four others after dark and unconsciously begun feeling around for the lightswitch, or thought pleasantly of a warm shower and then scrunched up my face in anticipation of the cold running down my back. But it is only habit that makes me do so. Tonight as I showered, squealing, by lamplight, I found myself chuckling at the unique experience, and chattering about it with my co-teacher Manuela over the thin walls of our abode.

And so time and I march on--I often with either a little green "perrico" or a dishtowel on my shoulder and a garbled Spanish sentence in my mouth, I often thinking of how wasteful I have learned to be, how careless I am, and how ignorant of many things. Perhaps four and some months will teach me somethings. But then I shall only be eager to learn more.