At the Middle of the World

Maybe it's just a form of laziness, but lately much of the writing I do...if indeed it even counts as writing...is simply transcribing little snippets of the things that people say. I favor anecdotal memories shared in passing, or unexpectedly poetic little phrases and confetti quirks of language tossed into the air. I am glad to have my tiny notebook on hand at such times like a net with which to catch these.

And so, here's Jaime, who regaled me recently with enthusiastic images of Ecuador, his homeland. I'm not sure when Jaime left Ecuador, but I think he said it was during a time of political turmoil. Now he is in Southern California, at the same assisted living facility as my mother. (I'm always fascinated by the unlikely paths that take us from wherever we started to where we happen to be, and the unlikely convergences that ensue.)

Anyway, Jaime called out to me recently as I walked through the lobby with my mother on our way to get ice cream. He wanted me to know that his mother had the same name as mine: Esther.

That's when I asked him where he was from, originally, and with great passion, he started talking about Ecuador:

Is right at the middle of the world! The most beautiful place! The equator, at the middle...is Ecuador! Mountains. Rivers. And the fruits! Pineapples, mangoes, bananas...and the fruits you never seen before... chiramoya, naranjilla, pepino...more fruits than you ever see in your life! Is the fruit basket of the world...

Standing there by the reception desk in a glare of sunlight through glass doors, Jaime was like a jovial South American ambassador. His enthusiastic descriptions made Ecuador sound like a place I should add to my travel list. I told him so.

"Si! You visit Ecuador. You have a husband...right? You go together. The people...ah, you will love the people! The most peaceful people in the world."

I saw Jaime again a month or two later, sitting in the dining room at the assisted living facility. He waved to me and I went over to say hello. A mutual friend had shown him this blog post and he wanted to make sure I understood that he was advising me to go with my husband because Ecuador is a wonderful place to share with someone you love, not because it is dangerous or anything like that.

Suddenly tears filled his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I get emotional. I miss my homeland."

I thanked him again for telling me a little bit about it and told him that someday I hoped to say hello to Ecuador firsthand from him.

"Cuenca," he said. "Make sure you go to Cuenca."

I thought about Jaime for the rest of the day, touched by his dignity and spirit.