Playtime ends as the sun is setting above Nuevo Paraiso. Mothers hurry the children inside, as the descending night provokes a dangerous chill.
To northerners, the heat of a Honduran day still lingers, and the dirt warms our feet as we walk toward a meadow. Mountains peak beyond the fields of sugarcane. The glorious pink sky turns the mountains into gray silhouettes.
We sit, my friend and I, as the orange orb of a sun falls quickly behind the jagged monsters. With the light diminishing, new sounds rise out of the earth. A breeze can be heard in a lone tree. Crickets begin their chorus. But between us, not a word is spoken. The quiet bliss of stretching our legs after a hard day’s work is soothing enough, and our orphan angels of Nuevo Paraiso are safe in their new homes.
It takes a sunset to realize life really can be this simple.
This was written for a quick assignment in a writing workshop. It is posted here in honor of three and a half years passing since my inspiring mission trip to Honduras with Gilmour Academy.