Lost and Found

I sit and let the sun's rays beat down on my bare skin. Areas covered by bikini are warmed and I let my thoughts drift and swim through time. Nearby the boys are playing, splashing and jumping in the pool. They are enjoying their time in Brazil, and I am enjoying watching them learn the ropes of a different culture. My thoughts land on my sister, again and again I see the two of us walking arm in arm through the streets of Maringa. Chatting in Portuguese, and explaining certain nuances about boys, games and life in general. We are young, me 17 and her 14 but we are close. We share so many things, a love for so many things. We are bonded as true as any sisters could be and I do not want to leave her, and yet, the days and weeks are drawing to a close. I promise myself I am going to write and I am going to call, but life has a way of interrupting even the best of intentions. A tear starts to slip out from under my closed lid and I rush to brush it away with the back of my hand. I look over to where the boys are playing and find them still safe, my mind only away for moments.

I relax again and feel the sun on my skin. I know history cannot be changed. For as much as it pained me to leave my sister standing in that airport, tears running down both of our cheeks, I had to leave. My year was up. The memory of my six weeks at home in the states now seem like a blink. I barely remember what drove me to leave again, but it was as if life had been set on autopilot and the controls taken away. The further time moved from my year in Brazil, the harder it seemed to return and the easier the emotion and loss to bury. Now, eighteen years later, here I lie, soaking up this country's air and culture. Beyond the voices of the children I can hear the cars racing by, one horn blares here and an alarm sounds there. Dogs bark from down on the street, then from levels above in the adjacent building. I love the city and open my eyes to stare up at the 6 buildings that surround this little piece of aquatic freedom. I shade my eyes from the sun in order to take more of it in, until my arm tires from the exertion. I relax again returning my attention to the sounds of the children. They are playing an all too familiar game of Marco Polo and splashing happily along. The stress of the morning has faded, and the sounds of their laughter fills me with a sense of happiness that buoys my spirit.

I allow my thoughts to float over the events of the past few days and how I happened to find these people I had lost contact with so long ago. Just yesterday I stood at the gate of this building inquiring as to whether or not the Olivera family still lived here. My heart stopping in my chest when the doorman said, "Yes."  The hesitation I felt as I stepped through the gate he opened for us, followed by three half grown boys nearly paralyzed me. I had searched and searched for these people, year after year, month after month. My modern self has a hard time reconciling with my past disconnected self. We did not have internet, cell phones or social media when I lived here, yet a guilt spreads over me as we ride the elevator to the 11^th floor. “You should have tried harder. You loved these people and you should have fought harder,” a voice from within admonishes. Again a tear slides down my face, and again I hurriedly wipe it away. I roll onto my stomach to hide my anguish from the boys. The feelings that have flooded me in the past few days are hard to understand even for me or maybe it is shame that makes me want to keep it from them. I let life sweep me away, keep me from this place for so long and I could have, should have worked harder to stay connected. By the time I discovered my mistake, it was too late. This family had moved as if cruelly, time had wanted it that way.

 

On my stomach now, the sun toasts my shoulders and back all the way down to my bare feet. I allow my thoughts to be lifted by the warmth of the sun's rays as my memory returns to just yesterday. Entering their apartment and seeing both mom and dad standing there I rushed to embrace both of them at the same time. What a surprise for them, the daughter they sent back to the states over 18 years ago, mysteriously shows up on their steps one day with three children of her own. Anger cannot be found on either of their faces or in their eyes, only happiness and joy at our arrival. For a moment it is as if time has not been stolen from us, as we stand their happily talking and rushing for introductions. They of course do not speak English and the boys sit dutifully and listen to Portuguese which they are only beginning to understand. Even they admit that we have encountered one another as if I had departed only yesterday. As the minutes and hours pass swiftly, we talk of many stories and adventures that 18 years have brought us. They tell me that my sister did an exchange of her own, as we all knew she would, and for the past 7 years has lived, worked and studied in London. My younger sister, then only 7 is married and living with her husband in California. A sadness starts to envelope me and I am left wanting to freeze time, to stop the world here, for this moment and not move forward. I bury my head in my arms and let the tears flow freely from me. I am both happy and sad, mournful and joyous as a realization starts to dawn on me. Slowly the tears subside and I feel as if I have gained a sense of peace with all of this. The loss of 18 plus years can be and is overwhelming but here and now I am stealing some of that back for myself, for all of us, and as if in retaliation I am giving some of it, even now to my children.

Even still, time moves forward, marching to a cadence that no one can control, and I am caught on its wave eternally destined to move forward with it. These moments are the ones we cherish, like my sister and I walking through the streets, the sounds of the boys playing in the pool and me here with my mom and dad chatting all day long. Only memories will remain when we part ways in the end. Finally I am lifted with this thought. Thank you social media, thank you internet, because going forward I will not be lost by time again, I will not allow life to kidnap me from these shores. I love these people, and going forward, I will never lose sight of this again.