A friend of mine has been in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) since April 8. There are still many unknowns about his recovery, but at this moment in time it thankfully appears as though he is going to be given the chance to try to recover. Movement, speech and brain functionality are all unknown. Although he tested negative for COVID, there are inexplicable symptoms and ongoing complications that can take one’s mind to a very dark place.
The past few weeks my heart has been aching – aching for my friend, for his husband of less than a year who just moved to California so they could build a life together, for his sister who is a best friend of mine and for his parents who have treated me like family throughout the years. I’ve awoken in the middle of the night, experiencing what I can only imagine is what they call a panic attack. I feel a tightness around my heart when I take a deep breath. I feel his pain in my soul when I think of him all alone. The only escape is to let tears run down my face as I send all my thoughts to his recovery.
Six years ago, I visited this friend in Argentina before he moved back to the US. A few years back I had to write up a short article for a travel job application. Thinking of my time with him, I wrote this.
We drove through the night, going the same speed and direction as the storm. I feared the rental car would hydroplane off the road, leaving us to beg for help and explain our injuries in broken Spanish to whomever braved the storm to rescue us. Our lack of planning, coupled with the inability to see signs of vacancy through the relentless sheets of rain, left us with only one option: a miserable night of sleep in the Argentinian version of a Ford Focus. As the saying goes, “you get what you pay for,” which in this case translates to zero extra inches of legroom in the appropriately labeled “compact” car.
As dawn poked through the condensation-covered windows signaling the storm was over and a new day was here, we admitted we were awake – exhausted and cranky, but awake. During our restless shut-eye struggle the storm continued north, which mercifully broke the sweltering heat and left us with a cloudless blue sky. Puddles remained, but the drive to our destination was smooth sailing. Our early arrival gave us a peacefulness I can only assume is rare at a World Heritage Site. The air was heavy with water, but a symphony of birds celebrating the dry skies welcomed us down the trails. A low rumble grew louder with each step, slowly overtaking the bird songs.
And then, there it was – Iguazu Falls. I knew it was going to be amazing, but I wasn’t prepared for my physical reaction to the natural wonder. My heart skipped a beat and I audibly gasped for air. My eyes teared up. I was speechless. It was so… magnificent. I felt purpose and purposeless all at once. I felt the grandness of the universe, while simultaneously feeling the minuteness of existence. I was overwhelmed with emotions I couldn’t explain. The monsoon-ridden drive, the cramped rental car siesta and all other worldly burdens were gone. I hugged my friend as we experienced true awe and whispered a reminder to myself, “This is what we live for.”
