Saturday, November 03, 2018

Leaving the Andes

I'm on a flight home from Peru and I'm stomach sick.

Two weeks in Peru and not once did I subcumb to that sickness.

At the tops of the mountains, when I was at the top of the world I felt it. I look out at an audience of 300 and I watched them worry as I might collapse.

I did not.

And I taught them.

I will not have been the most important moment in their life. But for an instant, like every audience, gasp, word, exclamation, raised hand, question, question, question, response...

They are my most important audience in history. In that time, and in that place. For 90 minutes I am the most important thing in the world to 90 poeple, and that makes it all okay.

That's what matters.

Sixteen days in country and not once sick, even in a moment when I had the most reason to be ill. I was all.

I was whole.

I was...me.

Enough for then, I suppose, but not enough really, ever in the end.

I'm on a home plane from Peru.

I'm on a way to home.

Somewhere ,there is a home.

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