Memories of Maize
This weekend my parents hosted some friends from Sipacapa, where we lived in Guatemala in the ‘80s and early ‘90s. I was grateful to be able to join them.
Together we caught up, shared a meal, looked at photos, told stories, exchanged gifts. We spoke Spanish, mostly, with some English and Sipakapense mixed in.
There in my parents’ home—on a Lancaster County hillside, surrounded by corn fields—we reminisced about our lives as neighbors in that mountain village all those years ago, where corn was and remains a way of life.
Gracias a la familia Tema por su visita y por su amistad. Un día escucharemos nuevamente los sonidos de la marimba en Tres Cruces. O si Dios quiere, tal vez en la nueva aldea en Baltimore.
