Meet Dercia. She has four years of life. She is technically my host-niece, but since I am still unclear about the intricacies of our gigantic family tree, I just think of her and the other 28 or so people I see around the house as my host-siblings. Every morning, she hangs out with me and sits on my lap or observes me while I break my fast. She loves to give high fives, brincar (play) in the dirt with her cousins, and make funny faces during dinner. She converses with me more than the rest of my host family put together. I can’t understand anything she says, except occasionally when she tells me that I have a big nose, and that my hair is growing (I don’t have a mirror, so these are good things to know). We are very good friends, and I hope she remembers me after I leave, because I will certainly remember her, for her openness and her honesty, and for always being genuinely excited to see me.
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