Cake without words

I thought I if I wrote a speech I might cry. I know if I say anything I will start crying. And not just a tear. I sit around not knowing when the party will start. The main director is gone and soon after class the assistant director calls me as we are just sitting. Awkwardly we all come into the main dining room. The boys all slowly show up. Only one or two are missing. One of them has gone to a rap competition. The heavy rain will prevent him from coming home tonight. I won’t see him in the morning. He is one of my favorite. His English is phenonmenal. There’s a cake with pink frosting ordered for me. There is popcorn and soft drinks. I didn’t have amny words to say, so I say ‘I have nothing to say’. I take pictures of all the boys in two by twos. Some are sweaty from playing soccer some don’t want to take pictures with each other. I get almost everyone.

We don’t do proper hugs or goodbyes, I assume I will see them in the morning in morning meetings before I leave. Soon all the food is gone. Everyone goes back to their own things. I sit around with the boys for a few hours after. I haven’t properly backed but I give away many things like shaving blades and towels and other odd items. I leave my clothes for the laundry ladies in the morning. I hope now after I am gone they may like me more. They were the only Haitian females inside the actual home. But yet I only saw them to drop off my laundry when they came and they were never happy about it. I was never happy about it being placed all over the roof on top of pebbles later to be thrown into the courtyard and claimed. To me at first this was amusing, until I realized my clothes were slowly being shared and worn and sometimes never returned . I had already started to give things away. In my last night and day I distribute other items like blades and towels. One of the twelve year old boys, M, gives me his ring and another asks if we will be wed. Such jokes continue into the night with just a few of us. They make fun of each other and we share laughs. I don’t remember about what.

I didn’t know if they expected words. I wrote a letter many days later. I don’t know if my letter was ever read during meetings or service. I don’t know if there was ever a proper goodbye.