The Reclaiming

 

Hurricane Iota hit Honduras the week my son and I returned from the U.S. after a long evacuation. Eight months of creating a home away from home, where there was love and green space and freedom, but without my husband, without a sense of normal, and not knowing when we’d be reunited.

The night we landed in Tegucigalpa, there was wind and torrential rain, but also peace: we were together. The roof leaked in several places, like tears running down the walls. Walls I had not lived in for quite some time, within which I could not find things. Where is the pasta strainer?

I opened drawers and cabinets, rearranged furniture. I put on my favorite fuzzy socks, straightened books, and washed blankets, seeking coziness and order. Re-establishing my presence, reclaiming space here.

Tracita! Bienvenida!” said the store clerk I hadn’t seen since winter. “Donde esta?” she inquired with wide eyes behind thick glasses. The answer felt too big to fit in my mouth, so I said simply, “Away, but I’m here now.”

On the first day of sun, I gathered groceries. I cooked all morning, stacking copper pots in the sink, stocking the fridge with nourishing food. It felt healing and made the house smell good. I missed those copper pots, missed cooking in my kitchen.

We set the table, lit candles, and fostered togetherness, not taking it for granted. Unity. Connection. Hugs. Cocooning ourselves; not hard to do in an era of Covid, but now welcome.

There are a few things I had forgotten about living here:

  • the need to gird my loins while avoiding errant mopeds on the road
  • don’t drink the tap water
  • fireworks-loud ones, late at night
  • how fortified the city is with its high walls with barbed wire

And yet so many things to love:

  • morning coffee and conversation on the patio
  • rediscovering our belongings and creative spaces
  • the palm tree and hummingbird in our garden
  • roadside tiendas selling vibrant flowers, fresh pineapples, and avocados
  • how good it feels to sit at my desk, surrounded by writing instruments, books, and journals

 

….and a million little things about home that hold my heart.

 Love & Light, 

“Tracita” (little Tracy).

 

 

 

 

 

9 thoughts on “The Reclaiming

  1. Bienvenidas in your Tegucigalpa home. I know you are missed in your refuge at Dinglewood, but so happy you three are reunited. Felicidades!

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  2. I’m so happy the 3 of you (well, 4 including Biscuit) will be together for the holidays. You are gifted at finding joy in the little, precious moments and also gifted at writing about it. Best wishes and love to all the Macs.

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  3. I almost cried at the comment of the shop lady. Speechless! Wow. It tells you made an impression. I love your words in describing being home as a family. All of the familiar stuff means so much. You forget how fuzzy socks makes you feel until you don’t have them. I am glad you are home.

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  4. Selfishly, I am not glad you are home… As I loved All of our time together while you were in the States. However, I know the challenges you faced here, living out of a suitcase and not being together. I am glad you are home, together and safe. Send pics and posts often! Lots of love for all of yall!

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  5. Tracy, I just found this post and am savoring your words like a delicious repast. I’m so very glad you are back in the arms of your dear husband– and glad for Ramsay, too! And I’m so glad that you are cooking yummy things for all of you to enjoy together at one table. What a simple thing and what a profoundly important thing it is, too. I send all 3 of you warmest love and Christmas kisses from Atlanta. Love, Katharine

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  6. He traducido su hermosa escritura, Tracy, porque he olvidado la lengua inglesa y ya no conozco muchas palabras antes familiares. La culpa la tiene el alemán, he vivido hace poco y durante tres años cerca de Bremen. Lo único que hice fue estudiar su idioma y como es un poco parecido al inglés finalmente me confundí con ambos. Aprender es también olvidar, dicen.

    Francisco

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