a treasure from the pearl

I didn't know how much it would mean to me until it was here. I didn't know I needed it, but holding the dusty piece in my hand, I know I do. I don't know who arranged for it to be sent to me, but I'm so thankful for their thoughtful act.

In my lap, I hold a piece of my past. A piece of me. In 2007, I moved to a little island country called Haiti. In 2010, I was glued to the television as I watched it crumble down. Days went by without knowing if my friends were okay. Over 300,000 people died in the earthquake that January day, many while trapped for days under rubble. Two of them were my friends. Many structures were destroyed; 1 million people were made homeless. One of those buildings was the orphanage where I lived and worked in 2007. This is a piece of that orphanage.

This is the place where I decided to become a nurse. This is where I gave my first intramuscular shot. This is where Katie taught me how to draw blood on Angela's kitchen table. This is where I met my three youngest siblings for the first time. This is where I kissed sweaty heads at night, bunk by bunk. This is where I would cry pissed off that babies are dying because of stupid things like dehydration. This is where I fell in love with a baby named Rebecca, where I cared for her scarred skin, where I mourned over a positive HIV test, and then rejoiced after learning it was a false positive. This is where I watched her and many others plump up and get healthy. This is where I listened to a school age boy tell me about his experiences as a restavek, child slave. This is the place that I cared for a machete wound in the office while the clinic was still being built. This is where I broke up with a boyfriend who couldn't understand why I wanted "to be in that shit hole anyway." This is where I danced in the rain and got yelled at by the nannies for doing it.

One of the most devastating things about watching Three Angels come down was knowing that my husband would never get to visit the place that helped make me the woman he married. He has yet to see Haiti and a part of me feels like he will never know that part of me until he goes. I wanted him to see where his wife became who she is. I wanted him to see a place that I called home. An earthquake may have damaged that place, but now in our home we have a piece of my old home. The pieces come together.

As I look at my piece of the orphanage, I see layers of paint that were rolled on over the years. I wonder to myself which layer is the one I put on. I see part of a pink handprint and wonder if those are the fingers of one of the little girls who insisted on braiding my hair. Either way, I know that Haiti and this particular building has touched and shaped me more than any impact I ever had on it. Haiti is a beautiful country, "The Pearl of the Antilles." Her people are breathtaking and resilient. The earthquake was powerful, but not as much as what this treasure represents. Beauty from ashes.