gracias.

yesterday my friend timo - a nicaraguan boy who's been adoped into a loving family - gave me two stickers. one sticker said veggie tales, and the other had a picture of larry the cucumber, smiling in happy-go-lucky sort of way. timo placed them directly on my shirt. i said thank you - "gracias" - and we both wondered out loud what it would be like if your whole body was covered in stickers. i suggested that perhaps you would get stuck to a wall, but timo knew better - the front sides aren't sticky.

each day here is different. each day comes with something new, something unexpected. each day you see something - and you feel something - that is different than the day before. you can't always explain why a certain experience made you feel a certain way, or why you change from day to day; it just seems to happen. and so the mysterious cycle continues, up to down, down to up.

today was a down day.

as lunch time approached, i went to the mall near my house. i ordered nestea and two spicy chicken sandwiches from burger king. the drink was medium sized, and the lady behind the register made sure for me that the sandwiches didn't have mayonnaise. i picked up my tray and decided - for the first time ever - to go outside to eat. the mall was stuffy, and six flatscreen tv's blared the same several advertisements over and over. outside a breeze was blowing, but the sky was heavy and tired... it might rain soon. i sipped on my nestea, carefully saving some for each chicken sandwich. as i finished my sandwiches, i looked to my right and saw a boy walking alone. he was moving towards the table where i was seated. when he saw that i was watching him, he began to meander a little bit, shuffling along meekly but still moving in my table's general direction. it's something that happens often in nicaragua, young children approach you with your light skin and light eyes. the young children know to ask you for money; they know that perhaps you don't see this a lot where you're from. it's hard not to build a resistance to that sort of profiling, and as the boy approached i thought of several different ways in spanish to tell him, "no." he was about 6 feet away when he first opened his mouth. a half whisper came out. i had a quick decision to make, dismiss him now or try and understand him. i asked him to come closer. he asked again, "fresco?" - drink. my medium cup with nestea was about half full, but i was still suspicious. did he want money as well? was he scamming me? was there someone else behind me coming to grab my backpack? my flesh is weak and full of doubt and judgement. i tried to dismiss the thoughts. i asked if he wanted the cup. he nodded shyly and took the drink with both his hands. "gracias." he took small sips as his tiny feet moved in little circular patterns. he was eager to drink, but also seemed somewhat glad to have a little conversation.. his voice was soft - it felt small for even his frame. i first asked about his mom. "my sister is sick and in the hospital, so that's where mom is too." then about his dad - he lived somewhere else. where do you live? "pretty far from here." did you walk here? "yes." who's with you? "alone." he answered between sips, lifting his head and nodding slowly and gently. and when did your sister go to the hospital? "two days ago, they're letting her out today." how old are you? "six." my heart dropped. my suspicions began to drop as well. he finished the drink, "gracias." what's your name? "nelson." i'm eric, i'll see you later. "goodbye." i walked back into the mall and threw out the sandwich wrappers and the cup. the tv's continued blaring, the air was still thick. i walked past several fast food shops and an ice cream stand. i walked past a shoe store where several signs on the wall said, "i love shoes." i passed a cell phone stand that was decorated with pictures of people happily jumping and holding their phones. i walked across the tile floor, it was so clean you could see your reflection, and the lights from the windows up above. and then i stopped. i turned around and walked faster, over the tile, past the cell phones, past the shoes, right by the ice cream and the fast food. i opened the door to the outside courtyard and nelson was standing right there, waiting.

i forgot to give him something.

nelson put veggie tales on the his left hand, and larry the cucumber on his right hand.

"gracias."

but later as my eyes welled up with tears driving away on my moto, i felt that i hadn't given nelson near as much as he had given me.