What I see from the rocking chair

I sit in my host family´s living room, and a chicken wanders across the floor, pooping in the middle of the tile. From my seat in a rocking chair, I can see a tree full of young yellow coconuts that the family will later eat, a rooster about to crow, a pig tied up in a pen, being fattened for Christmas barbecues. I switch my seat to a hammock, which sways in a breeze that flows through the gazebo-type room. I think about how different, how controlled American homes seem. Their living rooms are carefully air-conditioned, animals limited to a small number of cats and/or dogs, windows shut to keep out insects, everything set up to maintain order and silence inside the house. It will be strange when I get back to sit in my house and feel the cool silence, to hear no roosters or horses. Here in Limay, I think constantly about what I miss, the things I´ll have when I get back home. But what I need to remember now is what I won´t have when I get there, the juice I won´t have from fresh fruit, the bicycles I won´t see laden with excited children, and especially the chickens I won´t see walking through the living room.