Sunday, March 9, 2014

Hey Orange

"Hey Orange,"
I challenge you to a duel of soccer.  A fight (to the friendship)
Can you even comprender?
"Hey Orange,"
Lets go on an adventure.
Lets drive off into the sunset in this red truck and eat tamales until we're stuffed.
Then we'll eat some more.
"Hey Orange,"
Let's be friends forever and ever even though we live in two different countries.
But no matter.
Country lines change not feelings or the stars.
They change not words, they only translate them.
"Hey Orange,"
These days are dwindling.  Why must you leave?
Who will I make weird faces at in the middle of clase de matematicas?
"Hey Orange,"
I wasn't sure if you had left yet or not, so I ran to the bus station to see if you had gone.
I saw only a flash of hair as you disappeared, a whiff of a memory.
Why must these things end so quickly?
Why do all the good things end, when the bad things seem to never go away?
"Hey Orange,"
Who even is in charge of life? Who even makes up these rules, and makes us follow them? Why only 5 days, why not a month?
Tape this sacred piece of red to your wall.  The one with the remembrances and blue jeans interwoven.
And one last thing.
"Hey Orange,"
Never forget me.



A Week Away From Home

On Friday the 7th of March, at about 6 o' clock a van full of Waldorf children pulled up to the Waldorf School of Orange County.  The van stopped, and they all piled out, running to their parents and shouting greetings in Spanish.  The reason for the Spanish is that the students had just returned from a week in Mexico, and it seems that they had temporarily forgotten English.
Every year the Waldorf School of Orange County hosts 13 or so Mexican students from CETYS University in Mexicali, Mexico.  10th grade families host these kids for 5 days (which is far too short if you ask me) and at the end they return to Mexico whence they came.  4 months later, in March, the host kids of the families head over to Mexico for 5 days and stay with their long lost hermanos.  They spend 5 days there, essentially becoming a Mexican for their time there.  Spanish is spoken and many tamales eaten, many friends made and too many names forgotten.  They are introduced to so many different people, how can they possibly remember all the names?
Of course the children were happy to be home--were happy to see their parents, but a little part of them was having a very hard time with the fact that they were no longer with their happy-go-lucky new friends.
You see, the children in Mexico, at least the ones they met, are very different from California kids.  They seemed to be happy the whole time.  There was never a shortage of conversation topics, and everyone was so welcoming.  They made the Waldorf kids feel special.  They asked them all about their lives, how it was different.  They joked around with them, called them "orange." (as they are from Orange County this is a very fitting name.)
And even though it was only 5 days, by pulling them into their family, their culture, and treating them as their best friends, for those 5 short days the kids of Waldorf School of Orange County felt special.