Walk of Sorrow… the testimony of one amazing teen
Written by Maddie G. – a brave, faithful teen who has twice visited Puerto Lempira with her dad.
I hear the Honduran soil crunching beneath my feet. I look down to find my once white shoes now stained a shade of red. I quickly glance up, and I see a bright orange sun rising in the horizon. God’ s promise of a new day. A new day filled with sorrow. I look over to see my small Miskito friend, Rodrigo, panting from the long walk to the airport. I walk over and pick his small and sweaty body up. He mumbles something in Spanish and points to something in the sky.
It is the thing I have been dreading my whole trip. It is the small puddle jumper plane that will take us back to Texas and away from beautiful Honduras and all of my Miskito friends I have made here. I suddenly begin to feel my eyes start to burn as if sand has been blown in them. Only it’s not sad, it’s tears forming in my eyes, tears that suddenly begin to run down my face like a flooding river. Seeing that I’m in pain, Rodrigo lays his head on my shoulder, “Mi Gringo.” That silly little boy can always make me crack a smile, even in the worst situations.
We suddenly make a sharp turn right off of the main road on to the bright red dirt runway. Far in the distance, I see the airport. Airport isn’t the right word to describe the building, shack suits it better. I drag my feet across the ground hoping it might slow me down and lengthen my walk to the airport. Despite my efforts we arrive there in minutes. I feel my body begin to get hot and my heart start to pound furiously like a raging drum. I hold Rodrigo tight knowing that my time with him is limited. No one speaks a word, the air is filled with sorrow. I look around my mission team to find each with their special Miskito friend and tears running down their faces. All knowing what will soon happen.
Our silence is interrupted by the sound of propellers beginning to rotate in the hot and humid air. I slowly place Rodrigo on to the dirt road. Tears come rolling off my cheeks like water spilling out of a broken dam. “Adios, mi amigo.” Rodrigo looks up at me, his eyes filled with sadness, “mi gringo.” I bend down to give him a hug, and then turn my back and begin to walk away from the little boy who changed my life.
I look out the airplane window to see my Miskito friends waving me a final goodbye. I dry my tears because I know I will see Rodrigo again someday. Whether it be months or years, or when I pass away and see hi little smiling face in heaven, I will see him again. Because goodbyes aren’t forever.