Category Archives: Honduras

The Heart Is a Muscle

It wasn’t a bleeding heart that sent me overseas for those years.

As her name suggested, Libertad would be freedom for me.

There, church bells ringing as the sun sets over Grenoble.

I knew that each page contained not only a tune, but also a message about who we were and who we ought to be—often pious and self-assured.

Some say she kills the men; in Honduras, she usually makes them go crazy.

The turn of this year feels too fragile for plans.

Like Agnes, I decided this unicorn would be mine.

Everyone who gets on is headed their own way—school, work, church, shopping, home—but for a brief moment, the barreling bus brings us all together.

A few months ago, I found myself at a weekend-long turtle monitoring session on Honduras’ southern coast.

Another holiday, another rustling through my luggage of words to find poignant answers for the question.