(The following is an excerpt from the book I’m writing about our Guatemala experience.)
I didn’t realize how much stress I was feeling in the first house we had in Guatemala until we’d finally left it. The lack of natural light throughout the house, the termite problem, the sounds of animal life on the roof with things dropping down from the ceiling.
I didn’t much care for Lucas, the guardian, either. When we’d moved in, he said he’d be there twice a week and would take the trash down the lane and out to the street. He never once did that. He didn’t come twice a week, sometimes only twice a month. I wouldn’t have cared except I knew Morris was paying him to do the gardening twice a week, and to take care of the place. Continue reading