November 2-5, 2001: Reconnecting with my first inspiration... (Shauna)

...let me back track a little bit.

I was all of four years old when a Chilean family moved next door to our Saskatoon home. Their daughter was one year younger than me and, over the following couple of years before they moved to Montreal, we were together often. She at my house, me at hers, or outside in our joint yards.  In my mind's eye, we were much older than the 4 and 5 year olds I now see from my "adult" vantage point. And the house and yard much bigger than the place I visited a few years ago. Our houses were joined by a common wall, but unlike most duplexes, there was a door in the basement connecting the two houses more intimately... through which we could run back and forth. 

My father taught me to floss my teeth on the counter of my friend's kitchen, and I recall waking up in her bed (or was she in mine?) wondering why I never turned 180 degrees in my sleep like her to end up with my feet at the pillow end. I was secretly envious! I liked eating at their place, but wanted to have nothing to do with it when her Mom served liver - not caring in the least if it was "good for me".

Given I was continually in the presence of Lorena and her parents, I must have understood a few words, at the very least, in Spanish. But if I did, there is no recollection. I only had about 10 words when I left Canada; ones I had perhaps learned from a song such as "feliz Navidad", or a movie "hasta luego", or "ocho" from when I was eight years old. Still, I wonder if perhaps this early influence somehow helped me learn Spanish as quickly as I did.  Regardless, this early connection was definitely part of creating the desire to know Latin America and learn Spanish. A desire, which was watered and nourished by other influences until it became so prominent that it couldn't be ignored. 

... on my bicycle...  

I recall a moment while I was cycling along the coast of Oregon in the first part of my route from Canada to Chile. Wondering what I was doing and how far I would go, in popped an image of a photo I had forgotten -- it is of Lorena and I, and my very first bike. She's sitting on the bike and I'm standing a little behind her and to the side, supporting the bike to make sure she doesn't tumble. And I am happy to be with her.  

With the image of the photo in my mind, I still didn't know how far I would actually travel *with* my bike. It did however bolster my determination to make it to Chile one way or another. And, add fuel to a desire to do a great part of it by bike.  Now, many times between Canada and Chile, I have weighed options of continuing or returning home. Of reaching Chile or stopping. Or perhaps ditching my bike. In these times, as I play with ideas, I am reminded of this childhood photo and I know that if I don't continue with my bike I won't be satisfied. I will feel unfinished. 

... reconnecting with my childhood inspiration ...

In La Serena, north of Santiago by almost 500 kms, I call the cell number I had received via email. While not expecting the tears that welled up in my eyes at the sound of Lorena's voice, I am not surprised. We confirm plans to meet this coming weekend (Nov. 2/3), and I hang up thrilled we both want the same type of weekend. I am glad for the fact that, while sporadic, we have remained in contact over the years and the last time I saw her was about 2 years ago. I think I would be a nervous wreck if the last time I saw her was when we were 5 years old! 

Plans changed effortlessly to have Lorena come out to Los Andes instead of meeting to discover another weekend get-away she had been looking into for us. (Thanks, Kelo! And the gang at the Casa.) 

I was a little stressed by the time we actually connected -- nervousness heightened a bit by the fact I went to the wrong bus-station first and by the time I got to the second, she had already arrived and walked to the vet clinic. As I rolled into the front yard of the clinic I heard a "there she is" from Kelo. And could see a body through the window moving to walk around the open door.

Any tension disappeared immediately, in the awe of how beautiful she was (is!) -- happy and radiant. Swept into her smile and energy, I parked my bike as fast as I could for a long awaited embrace. 

As for the weekend? I'm not sure what to share .... It was just a really beautiful weekend of either conversing, walking, shooting photos, or simply basking in the knowing she was somewhere near. 

I've visited with Lorena a couple times since, to see her place in Santiago and connect with Alvaro, her new husband. It was fun visiting with them and her family (aunt, uncle and cousins) who know me from when we could only communicate through signals and translated words via Lorena. The tiny Nanny embraced me in an incredible embrace of recognition! 

... "after-thoughts" 

I sometimes shake my head. It is somewhat incredible that over the time, and distance... over our different upbringings and cultures, we are where we are, that our lives have and are connected. 

Every contact I have with her, I find myself discovering new things about both of us. In our differences (there are many!), we've had tensions, which bring new understanding and acceptance. Just by being who she is, she both accepts and "pushes" me to explore further. 

I feel truly blessed to have her in my life. One emotion that will remain strong in my memory, is that of complete bliss of observing someone else's happiness in where and who they are. I've had this feeling before, and it intrigues me -- it has nothing to do with me, yet I am overwhelmed with happiness as if it were my own. (If in reading this, you can't identify, I hope you experience this one day -- it is incredible!)

Our final brief moments together yesterday (Sunday, Nov. 11) are very special to me. Of knowing an intimate bond, independent of time and space.