The Letter on Sunday

It was the morning of the 17, a bright, lively June day. I had my plane ticket in my hand and the world at my fingertips.

My mom dropped me off at the airport, giving me complete instructions because clearly I couldn’t find the terminal that I needed to go to. She didn’t like the fact that I would be by myself on such a long plane ride. With a “mummy-loves” she was gone, and I had a long trip between Brazil and me.

I wasn’t expecting to see the tiny hut in front of me that would be my home for the next three weeks of my life. It was raggedly, held together by bamboo shoots supported with rope and twine. Mud caked thee outside walls adding to the texture and smell of the diseased looking world around me. There was a pigpen around the back of the yard that almost looked cleaner than the house that I was about to walk into. After a lengthy amount of in and out breathing your sense of smell becomes numb to what you previously thought was revolting. I judged my expectations of the owners based on the surroundings of the house, which I later regretted, because when I met Mama E., whom came to greet me outside of the car, I was thoroughly surprised. She was a plump, short, happy faced woman, who had charm and charisma. She spoke minimal English, but with my aunt to translate the Portuguese she was speaking, I did all right. Mama E. came straight up to me and gave me a warm, welcoming hug that said my home is now your home. My initial reaction was that of confusion, I didn’t even know this woman and she was hugging me like I was her son. Her hug was genuine and I couldn’t understand why. Later that day I asked my aunt about the unusual experience that happened with Mama E. and her hugging me. She replied with an explanation of how cultures differ and how hugging is a form of greeting in Brazil versus the shaking of hands performed in America. I knew that I had been socially ignorant to the world around me and from that point on I wanted to do things that would take me out of my normal comfort zone and place me in the shoes of someone else’s life.

The rest of the family came home later that day. The dad was smaller than Mama E., but he was all muscle. A tiny mustache emblazoned his face making his nose look tinier than it actually was. He hugged me just like Mama E. did and proceeded inside. The last two members of the family were children. A little girl the age of seven shyly skirted by me and ran into the house, the boy on the other hand looked to be about 10 years old and he went straight for his toys. He located a soccer ball and kicked it towards me. I kicked it back and in no time we were playing a game of soccer. He was very talented at soccer. When the game was finished, the little boy, whose name was Manuel, grabbed me by the leg and pushed me in a direction he wanted me to go. Our only communication was through hand signals, facial expressions and pushing.

I followed Manuel into a clearing of the woods behind his home and sat there. I was in awe. The run down, grimy world that I had once been in was transformed and left-behind. Presently, I was standing by the edge of a murky green river. On the other side of the river were parrots, flamingos and amazingly enough, Crocodiles. The trees were filled with howling monkeys and ibis painted the sky pink. Together these creatures were co-habitating and as a whole are able to survive. The lush vegetation that smothered the clearing sheltered Manuel and myself from the glaring sun, which had left its mark on the mud, cracked riverbed where a sleeping croc lay. It was almost as if I were looking at a painting, I had never seen the beauty of life in the flesh, it had always been portrayed through pictures, but then I began realizing that maybe the beauty of life was everywhere; I just don’t look for it or it doesn’t seem good enough. Manuel started cawing like a bird, but then he started wheezing and coughing in fits. I asked him if he was okay but he recovered and gave me a big smile. We sat there for another hour and when the light of the sun began to fade, we left the clearing and walked home.

Two minutes later, I had been told about Manuel’s condition. He has Tuberculosis. The coughing fit in the clearing made sense now, but I knew that TB was in the past, people have medication for that. My aunt told me to look around, “do you see any hospitals here Daniel? They can’t afford to go to a hospital and get turned away. Believe me I have done everything I can think of to help little Manuel, but he is past hope now and everyday he gets worse. So make sure he has the best time of his life right now.” Tears welled up in my eyes but they didn’t roll, I fought them and tried to gain control. I wasn’t going to let the rest of the family, especially Manuel know what I was crying about. I wanted him to stay strong. With the few days I had left, I made sure I did everything with Manuel. I took him to a play that was performed by Tula and myself, I went to the store and bought the family lots of ice cream and finally, with the approval of Mama E. and the dad, I bought Manuel a puppy. He loved his last gift especially and even though his surroundings were poor, he became the happiest boy alive. His spirit was always so strong, even though he lived with very few comfort items.

It was my day to leave. I said goodbye and gave everyone a kiss. Manuel was the last person I had to say goodbye to, but he wasn’t anywhere in sight. The clearing was just as beautiful as it had been the other day, which felt like light-years ago. Manuel was sitting in his designated tree and was staring at the river. I asked him what was he doing up there and what could he possibly find more interesting over here than he could over at home saying goodbye to me. He didn’t understand what I was saying but we had grown spiritually together and every detail could be related back to some past time and emotion, which we could each in turn relate to. Through this method of communication we were both able to understand to an extent what the other was trying to say. I saw the sadness in his eyes but I also saw the confidence and happiness that were always there buried beneath his big blue irises. The river was so calm, almost as if it knew today was a sad one and it was giving the both of us reverence. I carried Manuel home and with a loving goodbye hug, he turned to me and said “bye hermano mayor”. I had no clue what that meant, but I knew it had meaning and with a last wave to the family I was gone.

When I got home, life was different. You can’t live in a place of poverty, with no running water and dirt on the walls and not come back feeling different. Everyday comforts that I was used to made me sick to my stomach. I couldn’t stand the fact that I had all of these things; junk and billions of others don’t even have a home. My life had changed and friends and family noticed it. I made sure to only use the shower water when I was done scrubbing and I brushed my teeth with the water off until I needed to rinse. Habits changed and I was content with little things. One thing I could not get away from was a feeling that everyone around me, including myself, was selfish. We had everything we could ever need but we still want more.

When I opened the letter, I saw a child’s drawing of a river, lots of pink birds and howling monkeys. There was an extremely tall boy holding a smaller ones hand. A lot of emotions and memories came flooding back to me and I just held the letter in my hand admiring every detail of the drawing. Over the tall boys head were the words big brother, which translated in Portuguese was hermano mayor. The drawing was full of love and spirit, Manuel’s perspective of the river. I didn’t want to move from the spot. Manuel didn’t have coloring crayons or paper, so I knew that he had been in a facility, most likely the hospital. I wished for him to be okay, but I knew deep down inside that he was gone.

A ten-year-old child had changed my life forever; he had shown me how to live life without actually needing anything. Life was a precious gift for Manuel and he lived it to its fullest every single day. I was a changed person… All because of my little hermano.

The Letter on Sunday-Draft 1

Life has been more than generous to me over the years. I have always been able to live comfortably and eat three meals a day. Instead of just living off necessities such as food, water and shelter, my world has come to encompass extra items. I could live without a comforter on my king sized bed, but why should I, that’s what I am used to. Who cares if there are people who don’t even have enough water for the day to survive off of? This attitude might help me live a very cozy life, but I would be ignorant. I’ve always wanted to see the world, visit a place totally opposite from the place I call home. That day came soon and changed my life forever.

It was the morning of the 17, a bright, lively June day. I had my plane ticket in my hand and the world at my fingertips. The journey I was about to embark on would change my life forever, by how much though; I did not know.

The captain informed his passengers that we had five minutes to go until landing and the temperature was at a whopping ninety-two degrees, but with the humidity being so high the temperature was really near one hundred. My aunt was waiting for me at the terminal with a big smile on her face. She is really in to environmental care and helping the poorer class build shelter and eat. I had always appreciated my aunt for that very reason and when she had asked if I would come help her, I was ecstatic. She had told me exactly what to expect; first of all we would not be staying in a hotel, but in a house with a family of four. My expectations were still higher than what we pulled up to. The house, more like hut was bound together with rope and around thee edge of the house were rusted bikes and toys. There was a pigpen around the back and a little creek to the left of the hut. When we got out of the car, a very happy faced woman stepped out of the doorway to the hut and came over to greet us. She spoke minimal English, but with my aunt to translate the Spanish she was speaking, I did all right. The lady, who I was introduced to as mama E., then turned to me and gave me a big hug. My initial reaction was that of confusion, I didn’t even know this woman and she was hugging me like I was her son. Her hug was genuine and I couldn’t understand why. Later that day I asked my aunt about the unusual experience that happened with Mama E. and her hugging me. She replied with the difference in culture and how hugging is a form of greeting compared to the shaking of hands performed in America. I knew that I had been socially ignorant to the world around me and from this point on I wanted to do things that would take me out of my normal comfort zone and place me in the shoes of someone else’s life.

The rest of the family came home later that day. The dad was smaller than Mama E. but he was all muscle. He hugged me just like Mama E. did and proceeded inside. The last two members of the family were children. A little girl the age of seven shyly skirted by me and ran into the house, the boy on the other hand looked to be about 10 years old and he went straight for his toys. He located a soccer ball and kicked it towards me. I kicked it back and in no time we were playing a game of soccer. He was very talented at soccer, which was actually called football, for a ten year old. When the game was finished, the little boy, whose name was Manuel grabbed me by the leg and pushed me in a direction he wanted me to go. Our only communication was through hand signals, facial expressions and pushing. I followed Manuel into a clearing of the woods behind his home and sat there. I was in awe. The run down, grimy world that I had once been in was transformed and left-behind. Presently, I was standing by the edge of a river. On the other side of the river were parrots, flamingos and amazingly enough, Crocodiles. The trees were filled with howling monkeys and ibis filled the sky. It was almost as if I were looking at a painting, I had never seen the beauty of life in the flesh, it had always been portrayed through pictures, but then I began realizing that maybe the beauty of life was everywhere but I just don’t look for it or it doesn’t seem good enough. Manuel started cawing like a bird, but then he started wheezing and coughing in fits. I asked him if he was okay but he recovered and gave me a big smile. We sat there for another hour and when the light of the sun began to fade, we left the clearing and walked home.

At the dinner table, my aunt would constantly interpret what was being said so that everyone else could understand what was being said. She talked to me about Manuel and Tula (the little girl) and how there isn’t a school close enough for them to attend. I had no idea that they didn’t go to school; Manuel seemed very well educated for such a young boy. My aunt informed me that the dad teaches the kids how to read and write so that they will at least be able to make do in the world. The urge to help Manuel and Tula became very real and I began considering ways to aid this family. My aunt told me that there was no way that Mama E. and the dad would let their kids go to America to live with her or me. The truth was that the family needed as much help as they could to make a living. The dad worked in the fields and he would occasionally show Tula and Manuel the tools of the trade. I questioned my aunt, asking her if women were allowed to work the fields. Her response was rather grim. She said that if a woman did work the fields, which was a man’s job, she would be shamed from society and misfortune would come to the family. “well why does Tula need to know how to work the fields then?” The look on my aunt’s face was saddening. Two minutes later, I had been told about Manuel’s condition. He has Tuberculosis. The coughing fit in the clearing made sense now, but I knew that TB was in the past, people have medication for that. My aunt told me to look around, “do you see any hospitals here Daniel? They can’t afford to go to a hospital and get turned away. Believe me I have done everything I can think of to help little Manuel, but he is past hope now and everyday he gets worse. So make sure he has the best time of his life right now.” Tears welled up in my eyes but they didn’t roll, I fought them and tried to gain control. I wasn’t going to let the rest of the family, especially Manuel know what I was crying about. I wanted him to stay strong. With the few days I had left, I made sure I did everything with Manuel. I took him to a play that was performed by Tula and myself, I went to the store and bought the family lots of ice cream and finally, with the approval of Mama E. and the dad, I bought him a puppy. He loved his last gift especially and even though his surroundings were poor, he became the happiest boy alive. His spirit was always so strong, even though he lived with very few comfort items.

It was my day to leave. I said goodbye and gave everyone a kiss. Manuel was the last person I had to say goodbye to, but he wasn’t anywhere in sight. I had a slight feeling that I knew where he was. The clearing was just as beautiful as it had been the other day, which felt like light-years ago. Manuel was sitting in his designated tree and was staring at the river. I asked him what was he doing up there and what could he possibly find more interesting over here than he could over at home saying goodbye to me. He didn’t understand what I was saying but time had made us realize emotions and words through our voice tones. He turned around and jumped into my arms. I carried him home and with a loving goodbye hug, he turned to me and said “bye hermano mayor”. I had no clue what that meant, but I knew it had meaning and with a last wave to the family I was gone.

It was a July, Sunday morning and I had just woken up. I had been writing to Manuel and the family for a while now, sending them pictures of my home and trying to write as much as I possibly could in Spanish. The day was shaping out to be a good one and with the sun against a blue-sky background, my worries slipped away. I let my dogs outside to run around and use the restroom. Throwing the stick to my dogs, I noticed a tiny letter that was sticking out of our mailbox I went over to retrieve it. On the cover it read, “hand delivered”. I didn’t think letters were sent on Sunday, so naturally I was curious to see what was written on the inside. When I opened the letter, I saw a child’s drawing of a river, lots of pink birds and howling monkeys. There was an extremely tall boy holding a smaller ones hand. A lot of emotions and memories came flooding back to me and I just held the letter in my hand admiring every detail of the drawing. Over the tall boys head were the words big brother. I took these words in and the joy that I felt was incredible. I didn’t want to move from the spot. Manuel didn’t have coloring crayons or paper, so I knew that he had been in a facility, most likely the hospital. I wished for him to be okay, but I knew deep down inside that he was gone. A ten-year-old child had changed my life forever; he had shown me how to live life without actually needing anything. Life was a precious gift for Manuel and he lived it to its fullest every single day. I was a changed person. ……. All this from a letter on Sunday.

The Letter on Sunday-Draft 2

The captain informed his passengers that we had five minutes to go until landing and the temperature was at a whopping ninety-two degrees, but with the humidity being so high the temperature was really near one hundred. My aunt was waiting for me at the terminal with a big smile on her face. She is really in to environmental care and helping the poorer class build shelter and eat. I had always appreciated my aunt for that very reason and when she had asked if I would come help her, I was ecstatic. She had told me exactly what to expect; first of all we would not be staying in a hotel, but in a house with a family of four. I came into this foreign world expecting an adventure along with a little bit of comfort. I wasn’t expecting to see the tiny hut in front of me that would be my home for three weeks. It was raggedy, bamboo shoots held together with rope and twine. Mud caked the outside walls adding to the texture and smell of the diseased looking world around me. There was a pigpen around the back of the yard that almost looked cleaner than the house that I was about to walk into. I had heard somewhere that after a lengthy amount of in and out breathing your sense of smell becomes numb to what you previously thought was revolting. I judged my expectations of the owners based on the surroundings of the house, which I later regretted, because when I met Mama E., whom came to greet me outside of the car, I was thoroughly surprised. She was a plump, short, happy faced woman, who had charm and charisma. She spoke minimal English, but with my aunt to translate the Spanish she was speaking, I did all right. Mama E. came straight up to me and gave me a warm, welcoming hug that said my home is now your home. My initial reaction was that of confusion, I didn’t even know this woman and she was hugging me like I was her son. Her hug was genuine and I couldn’t understand why. I did a complete one-eighty and from that point on I learned never to judge anyone. Later that day I asked my aunt about the unusual experience that happened with Mama E. and her hugging me. She replied with an explanation of how cultures differ and how hugging is a form of greeting in Brazil versus the shaking of hands performed in America. I knew that I had been socially ignorant to the world around me and from this point on I wanted to do things that would take me out of my normal comfort zone and place me in the shoes of someone else’s life.

The rest of the family came home later that day. The dad was smaller than Mama E. but he was all muscle. A tiny mustache emblazoned his face making his nose look tinier than it actually was. He hugged me just like Mama E. did and proceeded inside. The last two members of the family were children. A little girl the age of seven shyly skirted by me and ran into the house, the boy on the other hand looked to be about 10 years old and he went straight for his toys. He located a soccer ball and kicked it towards me. I kicked it back and in no time we were playing a game of soccer. He was very talented at soccer, which was actually called football, for a ten year old. When the game was finished, the little boy, whose name was Manuel grabbed me by the leg and pushed me in a direction he wanted me to go. Our only communication was through hand signals, facial expressions and pushing. I followed Manuel into a clearing of the woods behind his home and sat there. I was in awe. The run down, grimy world that I had once been in was transformed and left-behind. Presently, I was standing by the edge of a murky green river. On the other side of the river were parrots, flamingos and amazingly enough, Crocodiles. The trees were filled with howling monkeys and ibis filled the sky. Together these creatures were co-habitating and as a whole are able to survive. The lush vegetation that filled the clearing sheltered Manuel and myself from the glaring sun, which had left its mark on the mud, cracked riverbed where a sleeping croc lay. It was almost as if I were looking at a painting, I had never seen the beauty of life in the flesh, it had always been portrayed through pictures, but then I began realizing that maybe the beauty of life was everywhere but I just don’t look for it or it doesn’t seem good enough. Manuel started cawing like a bird, but then he started wheezing and coughing in fits. I asked him if he was okay but he recovered and gave me a big smile. We sat there for another hour and when the light of the sun began to fade, we left the clearing and walked home.

It was my day to leave. I said goodbye and gave everyone a kiss. Manuel was the last person I had to say goodbye to, but he wasn’t anywhere in sight. I had a slight feeling that I knew where he was. The clearing was just as beautiful as it had been the other day, which felt like light-years ago. Manuel was sitting in his designated tree and was staring at the river. I asked him what was he doing up there and what could he possibly find more interesting over here than he could over at home saying goodbye to me. He didn’t understand what I was saying but we had grown spiritually together and every detail could be related back to some past time and emotion, which we could each in turn relate to. Through this method of we were both able to understand to an extent what the other was trying to say. I saw the sadness in his eyes but I also saw the confidence and happiness that were always there buried beneath his big blue irises. I carried him home and with a loving goodbye hug, he turned to me and said “bye hermano mayor”. I had no clue what that meant, but I knew it had meaning and with a last wave to the family I was gone.

It was a July, Sunday morning and I had just woken up. I had been writing to Manuel and the family for a while now, sending them pictures of my home and trying to write as much as I possibly could in Spanish. The day was shaping out to be a good one and with the sun against a blue-sky background, my worries slipped away. I let my dogs outside to run around and use the restroom. Throwing the stick to my dogs, I noticed a tiny, white letter that was sticking out of our mailbox I went over to retrieve it. On the cover it read, “hand delivered”. I didn’t think letters were sent on Sunday, so naturally I was curious to see what was written on the inside. Inside of me I hoped that it was a letter from Manuel, but I knew that if it were the reason behind it would bring sorrow. When I opened the letter, I saw a child’s drawing of a river, lots of pink birds and howling monkeys. There was an extremely tall boy holding a smaller ones hand. A lot of emotions and memories came flooding back to me and I just held the letter in my hand admiring every detail of the drawing. Over the tall boys head were the words big brother, which translated in Spanish was hermano mayor. I didn’t want to move from the spot. Manuel didn’t have coloring crayons or paper, so I knew that he had been in a facility, most likely the hospital. I wished for him to be okay, but I knew deep down inside that he was gone. A ten-year-old child had changed my life forever; he had shown me how to live life without actually needing anything. Life was a precious gift for Manuel and he lived it to its fullest every single day. I was a changed person. ... All this from a letter on Sunday.