This old man,he played FOUR; He played knick-knack on my door.

I can't believe it's been FOUR weeks since I've been at the Hogar. In a sense, I feel like I've lived here forever, but if this is forever, then I guess I'm pretty old. I feel like I'm caught in a spider web, clinging to delicate threads of sanity, while the world around me spins in unpredictable chaos. I find my sanity in the simple things, like my morning walk to school.

The air is still cool, untainted by the searing heat of mid-day. I clutch my folder tightly, glancing occasionally at the narrow, rocky path beneath me. The path kind of reminds me of the one Ellen White dreamed about. Instead of worrying about falling into an abyss, I watch out for centipedes and snakes. I inhale the strong odor of burning paper from the trash pile on my left, and my ears take in the steady singing of an insect choir. Cars and trucks purr and rumble in the distance, and the sound of children's voices grows louder as I near the school. I am surrounded by green; vegetation's last stand with civilization. I glance at the sky, an intense blue that mocks Crayola's feeble attempts to capture nature in a box. Fluffy clouds dance above the coconut palms and towering green jungle. Here I escape; here I forget that in a few minutes I will be standing before a room of loud children; here I forget that I'm hundreds of miles away from the ones I love dearly; here I forget yesterday's shortcomings; but it is here that I also remember. I remember to cast my cares upon Jesus and acquire peace.

The bell rings and children tumble out of classrooms like water cascading over a precipice. My reverie is broken, but I will retain this quiet peace throughout my day.