My blogs have been long overdue and trickle out at inconsistent rates, but better late than never, right? The reason it has taken me so long to write about my three weeks in Costa Rica is because of my mom’s accident. I returned to Atlanta for five weeks to help my mother recover and sort out the deluge of paperwork, appointments, and general chaos that always follows these tragic events. The entire experience, although not entirely over, was incredibly humbling and entirely worth it. My mom recovered quicker than anyone ever expected. Within three weeks of her surgeries, she was walking and—dare I say—cleaning! Credit must be awarded to my dad most of all because his is the arm my mom leaned on when she took her daily walks, the hand that washed her legs when her back could not bend, and the body that held her at night when she could not sleep.

I often think of my aging parents like antique glass so brittle that picking them up would shatter their form. But moments like these bring to life the couple who secretly fled a war-torn country, traversed oceans and rivers, and survived refugee camps, so the children on their backs could one day look up and see their futures as an endless cascade of possibilities not shackled down by a country in shambles. Like nothing akin to glass, my parents are made of iron, and their determination can cut through steel.

This is shorter than my usual blogs, but I think its length is just enough for me to start writing again. I hope you have all been well and that your lives have not been as tragically eventful as mine has been!