My stomach twisted itself into a knot and suddenly I felt lightheaded. The nerves were kicking in. Stepping out of my comfort zone into unfamiliar gut-churning, heart-pounding territory is something I am terrified of but also drawn to. When asked who wanted to go on the beach trip with the kids from the
A few other volunteers and I walked out of the bus, unusually quiet for our typical bubbly and talkative selves, shooting nervous glances at each other. The soft sand was hard to walk on and even harder for the wheelchairs to roll on. We finally made the trek to a picnic table and admired the beautiful Dominican water; it was turquoise and so clear it looked like a sheet of glass had been put over the ocean. One of the
I was asked to spend time with one girl, around the age of thirteen, who was relatively quiet. She needed to be carried, so I picked her up and we walked down to the water in an awkward but comforting silence. My heart rate was slightly elevated but I was finding peace in the fact that language was not a necessity today. Unlike the other days, where I would be rapidly trying to comprehend Spanish and speak it without stumbling on every word, today I just got to be.
When we made it into the water, she squealed with happiness. I smiled, and walked farther in. She then lifted her arm up, and I was unsure of what she wanted. “