leaving Xela (from a week ago)

It's overwhelming to try and figure out what to write about. Leaving Xela was sad, especially saying goodbye to Luis, Magda, Brauglio and family - they are the kids I tutored in basic arithmetic 2-3 times a week for my 4 1/2 weeks in Xela. Each afternoon there I'd arrive around 3:30pm, Luis would put a chair in the right place for me, the mom would offer me tea or coffee and sometimes something to eat, and we'd work on sumas, restas, multiplicaciones, and divisiones for 1-1.5 hours. My numbers in spanish are pretty strong now as a result, and I can do basic arithmetic in Spanish without converting to English. After studying we'd head for the park across the street for an hour or two of fútbol, tag, or various other games. They live on the edge of town in a very poor neighborhood, quite different from the other parts of Xela where I lived. Not only was their house not fortified, its door seemed to only be a hanging piece of cloth. The kids were a teacher's dream, genuinely courteous, warm, and eager to learn. It's such a cliché, but being around those kids really was good for improving my hope in humanity. There they were living in fairly extreme poverty, but well-fed, grateful to be going to school (thanks to a scholarship from the Juan Sisay school), kind and affectionate with their siblings, parents, dogs, and cats around the house. They genuinely enjoyed the math lessons and the games afterwards, and just seemed to me devoid of of the cruelties of the great colonial, patriarchal system they're going to grow up in. It just pushes me more toward the feeling that humans start out kind, and under the right circumstances perhaps would stay that way. That Saturday, the whole family and some neighbors were up for a game of fútbol and the park across the street was too crowded, so we played in a bowl-shaped pitch just below the house on a surface of gravel, rocks, litter and broken glass. 3 mothers in traditional dress, about 7 excited kids all under 10 years old, and I all swarmed around a little plastic ball trying to kick it between 2 rocks to score a goal. There were a couple minor scrapes and crying, but nothing much considering the condition of the field and energy level of the kids. After the game I said adios, and amidst all the goodbyes, I started sobbing and couldn't stop til a good 5 minutes down the road. I don't know what's becoming of me, I'm becoming a sensitive guy or something ;).