A Noisy Silence
There I was sitting in the middle of a cloud forest on a mountain top in Honduras. Unlike the schools in the states, Insitituto El Rey had no walls or doors just a rusted tin roof to protect the students from the afternoon rains that were held up by rust bars. A small moldy wooden sign saying Instituto El Rey and on the opposite side saying God Bless You, Sharon the founder of school, and I sit there in complete silence ignoring that either of us are present.
My eyes slowly close lifting away the several pounds they were holding when open. My hand slides across the splintered desk as I slowly removed the shoes that were constricting my burning feet. I let them touch the cool compacted dirt that is the floor. I could feel a little ant scurry over the top of my foot probably thinking it was mountain.
Off in the distance I hear the bursting laughter of those playing soccer in a field that has hungry pigs and scrappy chickens running from the black and white ball flying towards them. The slow trickle of the river that’s behind the school is like a small drum keeping a beat for the women washing their families’ clothes. My ears are then drawn to the sound of cows mooing in a field further up the mountain. When suddenly the crackling voice of a dirt covered school bus crowded my ear drums as it drove up the unforgiving mountain almost screaming for someone to release it from its tiring job.
As the unkind noise travels off into the distance, a cool breeze rattles the leaves of the mango, banana, and star fruit trees and pushes single strands of my flaxen colored hair over my
warm face. Then without delay the pitter patter of fat cooling rain drops hit the old tin roof, beginning to play a sweet melody that brings a smirk to my face. The cool mist blows into the room landing on my sweltering skin only to release it from the heat for a quick second before it rises to its starting temperature. The children playing soccer begin to let out joyful screams and run for safety under the fern branches that hung over the soccer field. The horses that had bones protruding from every inch of their skin moved under a large banana tree to escape the undesirable weather. While the plump pigs sat there enjoying the precious gift from the sky. Then just as fast as the cooling rain came upon us it left us only to cool those living further down the mountain.
As the rains lifted my nose was filled with remarkable smells, some more desirable then others. The fresh fruit aroma makes my dry mouth water and my hungry stomach growl like a viscous lion. Only to be tamed down again the by a breeze that was carrying the stench from the cow pasture a mile up the mountain. My skin created little wrinkles as I scrunched my noise to try and block out the smell. I could hear Sharon’s soft chuckle as I tried breathing out the burning smell. Another breeze strolled by and brought back the pleasant mango taste only to make my stomach twist and turn even more then the first time.
My senses are more alive than ever. I’ve never been so happy with things so simple. My heart beats joy with every smell and every new noise. My cheeks ache in pain from the uncontrollable smile that takes over my freckled face. Sitting in this noisy silence finally lets my brain relax from its stressful state. Honduras is the place I feel home. My little oasis in this the confusing world
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