The Year 2003
The years 2000-2 were perhaps the most difficult years I had for reminding me of my parents and some of what happened to me.
2003 continued on this theme, and although there were not as many dreams they were quite powerful and sometimes difficult to process. One in particular stands out because I was shown a black and white photo of my fathers face. I knew I was looking at my father, but still did not recognize the man for who he was in history. I only knew that I loved him. It was a gift I would not truly comprehend until many years later.
I also had a dream about going home to a place where I was welcomed, something quite different from the place I grew up. It reminded me there could be people who would recognize me if I could only figure out where my home actually was.
This gave me something to think about, this idea home was somewhere I could feel good about, so always in the back of my mind I prayed for the answer to this question to come to me. As I sit in Ecuador today writing this part of my story I am closer to home than I have been for most of my life, a place where the name Che Guevara is well known. Images of him can be seen pretty much anywhere: on t-shirts, the sides of vehicles, or on shop and restaurant walls. He is much loved in the land he worked so hard to assist.
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