A memory.

Alison and I are sitting at the dinner table with Don Elario y Doña Dolores, Rosaldo y Noel. It's our last week with this precious family. Last dinner we would eat with them, I think. Doña Dolores (loving, wonderful woman that she is) gives us each a parting gift. A cute little bag with a Quetzal embroidered onto the bright colored fabric. It's their national bird, the Quetzal. National everything it seems. They're proud of this green bird with the long, bright tail. Proud of their small home. Proud of their family. We talk about the Quetzal. About where he lives and how quiet you have to be to even hope to see him. Don Elario makes his little humming noise as he talks, his hands moving to further describe whatever scene he's spinning for us. They ask if we have national symbols. Always equally curious about our culture as we are of theirs. A national bird? Do you have one? Yes! Something to share. It's an eagle. A...how do you say bald? We try to describe it. It has white...what's the word for feathers again? We look at each other helplessly. Black. The body is black. And his head is white. So he looks...pelón! Doña Dolores understands what we're trying to say. It isn't really bald, just looks like it. And she laughs. What a precious laugh that woman had. She covers her face and she laughs. And mutters pelón under her breath. And we laugh. Because her laugh is infectious. And she has the giggles because of the bird that looks bald and is our national bird. She stops for a moment, and then it comes back and we hear pelón again with that delightful laughter. Don Elario laughs too. And we laugh. And Rosaldo plays with Noel and she laughs. And we're a family, of unusual sorts, sitting around a small table in a small house in Guatemala. And we're leaving soon. But we laugh with this family, because that's what they've become. And we hope one day we'll be able to come back and talk about birds with bald heads so we can laugh with them some more.