Finally Home

Our truck bounced and lurched as we hit yet another dip in the road, throwing us all to one side. As I braced for the next one, I snuck a glance at Greg. He caught my gaze and his face broke into a huge smile that matched my own. We were almost home. Nine months and five days from the day we closed our front door in nervous anticipation of our first stateside and our third child, three months and five days longer than we had planned because of the pandemic — we were home.

As our town-and finally our home-came into view, Titus gave a happy squeal, “I remember this!” I felt my doubts and fears begin to lessen as both Titus and Addison “remembered” everything — their toys, the kitchen, the wide porch — even the papaya trees and the sound of the chorus of jungle birds. In the days that followed our arrival home, they have astounded me with their vivid memories of our home, and the contentment they find in the very simple, unencumbered life we live. It appears I worried without reason, for though we left the land of zoos, splash pads, pools, and parks on every corner, they have not asked for any of these things. It’s as if they realize these are not part of their world anymore. Though I was tempted to grieve this for them, their pleasure with the small, ordinary things, and their squeals of delight over lizards and butterflies make me wonder if they aren’t really missing out on anything at all.

Though sweet, our arrival home was laced with difficulties. Greg and I spent hours cleaning the house from top to bottom with a bleach solution to get rid of several mold issues. Titus and Addison both got sick soon after we arrived, and had difficulty breathing, coughing, sneezing and wheezing and Matthew began teething, which meant several sleepless nights. We dealt (anew) with the bugs, the endless heat, humidity, dust and mold. All of these things we predicted, and even braced ourselves for — all except one.

Three days after we returned home, I reached to turn on the faucet and nothing came out. “That can’t be,” I thought, “Greg had just finished pumping the water into our water box,” so in theory, we should have enough for several days.

A few minutes later, Greg walked in. His face was pinched with worry and he looked confused. “We are out of water,” he stated. “Completely.”

It’s our worst fear where we live, by far. We are completely dependent on the rain. So to have run out of water in our 8,000 liter cistern is a huge deal. All our water, for cooking, bathing, drinking and cleaning comes from the water we have stored in our cistern, and the process for getting our cistern refilled is cumbersome at best. After a quick scan of all our pipes and plumbing, we discovered a leak. While we were pumping the water into our water box, it was leaking out through some pipes on the opposite side of the house.

For over a week, this was a daily chore that took Greg hours to do. Since only so much water can be hauled in a day, it would take all morning and we would only have enough water for the next day. We lived like this for over a week before several heavy rains began to refill our empty cistern.

Just last night, rain finally filled our cistern to the brim. What a sweet relief it was. In fact, I looked around today and realized for the first time in three weeks, we are functioning at “normal.” Our routine has been reestablished. Clean laundry hung to dry on the lines outside, rice and beans were cooking on the stove, and the children are all content and healthy.

We’re finally home.

Savannah