Five months have come and gone since I returned from Bolivia. I’ve passed through a semester of college, a new job, and several trips to different parts of the U.S., but Bolivia clings to me like a sweet aftertaste.
Time is not a chain of events, each connected only to the previous and following link. I’ve come to think of time as more of a liquid – each drop only adds to the constantly moving, mixing mass of memories and current experience. No single moment can be completely isolated from the rest, for what would an A grade in school be without a previous F? or a baby’s first step without the first hundred falls? or love without the stinging memory (or fear) of rejection?
What would my today be without my yesterday in Bolivia?
Reflection is a good teacher.
