DEAREST DAUGHTER: #1YR & 2 DAYS, BY @TRENORA
Dearest Daughter (One Year and Two Days):
Today as I write, as I have written to you every day for the past year and two days, I look at a picture of you. I am lucky that I have favorite ones of you over the years of your life.
You will remember this story: We were together in Guatemala. Your skin is brown in the picture and your eyes look right at me. There are trees behind you and a lake whose name I can’t recall…doesn’t matter.
I am remembering this story as something strange and exciting that happened to us that day, actually that night. We had gone to a small village nearby to eat, on foot of course. There was a huge rainstorm so we couldn’t walk back right away. By the time the storm had stopped, and we had started to walk; it was dark, very dark, no moon, no lights at all. It was the darkest night ever.
We had no flashlight and could not even see in front of us or the road beneath our feet. We held hands and sometimes a bike would whoosh by us in the dark, but we kept walking. It was more by instinct than anything that we knew when we had walked far enough because WE COULD NOT SEE.
When we thought we had gone far enough, you asked in Spanish: “Are we at _____ hotel?” of a passing stranger…and we were! We had walked in total darkness together for a mile, at least.
I am so proud to be your mother thinking of this silly story. You have so much courage and I know you will stay strong there in that prison cell. You are not alone Sarah. I am holding your hand and you are holding mine and walking thru the darkness together…and we will find our way home…
All my love and more,
Mom
| Print article | This entry was posted by Nora on August 3, 2010 at 3:43 AM, and is filed under FROM HIKERS' FAMILIES, I REMEMBER, IMAGES & VIDEOS, IMAGES OF HIKERS, IMAGES OF SARAH, LETTERS TO THE HIKERS, ON THE ROAD HOME, REFLECTIONS, THEIR PASSIONS, WHO ARE THE HIKERS?. Follow any responses to this post through RSS 2.0. You can leave a response or trackback from your own site. |
- Lydiapanas


