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I forgot the pain that sat heavy on my chest from the loss of a long relationship. I always seemed to love with every breath in my body and give all that I could, though my love was rarely reciprocated. But Guatemala loved me back. It sang my name through the foreign song of the birds, invited me to dance on the fertile land with bare feet and closed eyes, and graced me with freedom that set me apart from the gods only physically. My sister and I had gotten off the airplane in an unfamiliar land. The air was thicker, the loud buzz of conversation was faster and more incomprehensible, and smells of spiced food lingered. Stepping off the plane I was carrying my luggage and a heavy feeling of uncertainty, because my whole life I had aching wanderlust until I was there; finally off wandering, solely relying on myself. We left from the harbor town of Panajachel to a little hostel on Lake Atitlan right on the mountains, called La Iguana Perdida. The ride there was peaceful and the moisture in the air hugged my lungs. I was taking in the tropical green covered mountains that surrounded the lake, as I noticed my sister sitting across me completely taken in. Her eyes were shut to better indulge the surrealness of this perfect scene; warm wind blew through her long blonde hair, freshwater lightly sprayed her clean pale face, her arms perched on the side of the boat, and the first genuine smile I had seen from her in a while, slightly emerged on her face. After arriving, we found a hidden dock on the lake and jumped in. The first transition from hot sweltering air to clean cold water stopped my heart for a second, but as I plunged deeper my muscles relaxed, and I felt acknowledged as a child of the earth safe in womb of this lake; the air welcomed me back at the top and I breathed in the most refreshing and reassuring breath. I could tell my sister felt the same way; we didn’t have to verbalize it, it was clear in the gleam of our eyes as we looked over at each other, both floating to the rhythm of the waves under the beating sun. We ran off the dock jumping into the water and climbing back up, over and over again, sometimes with grace, sometimes with no effort at all, but we couldn’t get enough of the revitalizing Atitlan water. My sister and I started talking like we never had before; back home we always found a reason to argue but surrounded by so much beauty we felt obligated to just love; we put it all out on the table, time had no hold on us. The loud rumble of the forest and coo of the exotic birds came to a hum and the night led us back to the main lodge, where other noise picked up. There we joined the antics of others playing games and enjoying the food, and there, I would create some of the realest most genuine connections I’ve known. My sister and I met two young men by the names of Nim and Paul. We all got along famously; we talked about the widest range of things and it felt like we had known each other for years. The cool summer air invited us for late night talks over cheap cigarettes under the stars, occasionally interrupted by the clucks of the chicken that lived there. My sister and Nim retreated to their rooms, but Paul and I rose up the mountain just as the sun did. He told me there was a view I could not miss. We chased each other up the mountain and as we reached the top, tears welled up as we stood on top of the world looking at the peachy sky which mirrored the lake, surrounded by evergreen islands. I was truly fulfilled for the first time in my life and so humbled by the spirit of the land’s endless gift giving. In 3 years we are all due to meet up again and I will rejoice like I never have.