The Umbrella

I did it.


It’s shameful, but I did it.

I bought an umbrella.

I’m not sure if it’s universal, generational, within my group of friends, or just in my head, but I have always thought that umbrellas as a sign of weakness…. Maybe not weakness, but a means of not fully embracing who I am… someone from western Washington who, up until my move to Walla Walla, had seen more days of rain than sun in my lifetime. The only other umbrella I have other had in my possession was an umbrella that was in my car when I absorbed it in high school. That umbrella was left in my trunk by my mom, and like the iron and ironing board left by Doug and Shan in the basement in the Juniper house, it was left in its original place, in its original wrapping.

But then, I came to Guatemala during the rainy season. And rain here is different. Harder… more vengeful… and has greater effects when you’re reliant on chicken busses and your own feet to get around town and the villages. Being wet and then getting into your car and testing the defrost’s strength is a luxury not available here. So, I have purchased an umbrella. Not only that, I purchased a cute, light green umbrella with stars (if you’re going to fall into the realm of shame, you may as well do it with style). I do refer to it as the umbrella of shame, but I bought it. And I admitted it to my fellow northwesterner, Elizabeth, when she visited this week, so I feel rather accomplished. And once/if I actually post this blog, I’ll feel even more accomplished.

As I’ve been thinking about the identity shift that has gone into this umbrella purchase, I have begun to think about the other shifts of identity/who I am. The things that Guatemala has done to me, in only a matter of a month. One of the most prominent of these things is that I’m less busy. Tonight, I came home at 6, after a fun ride on the steps of the camioneta (chicken bus…) (another check on the things that would get you arrested in the US) and I went with my host brother and mom to deliver food to a friends’ house, racing my host brother up the mountain. My mom really likes to take care of people and makes extra food for lots and lots of people. I counted today and I think she feeds at least 60 mouths a day… I told her that and she just laughed, like its no big deal… for a girl who can’t cook a quesadilla on the stove, that’s a HUGE DEAL!

Anyway, I have digressed… after we went to their house, my host brother found two balloons and told me that he could keep them in the air for a really long time. We proceeded to have a competition between him, the sister, and me seeing who could keep them in the air the longest. The mom even came and made a guest appearance! As we were playing, I thought back to my life from birth until May 2010 and I can’t really remember any time that I have come home early, before dinner, and had time to just hang out and chill, trying to keep balloons in the air as they bounce off the tin roof. I would feel panicky… “maybe I should swim, I have to have more homework to do, what to do list can I make for tomorrow? Can I check something off now? Maybe I have time to get a bike ride in before dinner… oh wait, I still don’t know how to take the time to learn how to cook…” and so forth… My lack of panic, and increase in joy continued after dinner as we played Uno and had mom, kids, and random gringo dance parties and laughing attacks for almost four hours. I even forgot I had to pack… and that was written on four different to-do lists!

Well, I’ve embraced the shame of having an umbrella, dropped the panic of having freetime… maybe next will be ditching the lists… maybe not though… it’s only been a month, I think Guatemala has much more in store for me. More than I can predict or write down on a list.