Like the teetering wooden bricks of the beloved childhood game we were playing, I sat perched precariously on my kitchen stool when I began to totter to the left. This could not end well.

One moment, I was the upright, homesick, 30-year-old wondering what had possessed me to travel to Costa Rica, so far from the comforts of home. In the next moment, I toppled to the cool tiled floor out of nervousness, excitement, and sheer klutziness.

Three pairs of dark wide eyes gazed down at me, aghast. Furry little Tommi barked with confusion at the commotion of his three human companions who were frantically trying to determine if I was alright.

I stared up at my hosts, ashamed and helpless, and ever aware of the burgeoning blush on my otherwise tan cheeks. As usual, my clumsiness had taken center stage.  Luckily, I was fine, sparing a bruised ego. But how does one say that in Spanish?!

With a sheepish smile, I said, “I’m okay – Yo soy como Jenga!” pointing at the abandoned tower on the kitchen table.  They paused. I began to panic.  And then it happened.

My ears rang with their uproarious laughter. It was a sound that melted away my apprehensions and warmed my heart in an oddly familiar way… Loving arms enveloped me and propped me upright once more.  Suddenly, everything was different.

As we laughed and continued on with game night, it struck me what a beautiful thing had just occurred. Despite the apparent hindrances to connection – a language barrier, different cultures, and lack of time together – this family had accepted me as one of their own. In this moment, there was an instinctual communion of souls, inextricably bonding me to this family as though they had always been my own.

The wooden tower crashed to the floor as I indelicately attempted to release a stubborn brick from its center. My host family laughed, clapped, and took turns hugging me. I giggled at the glaringly obvious symbolism of the moment. Lifelong insecurities fell away and I was ready to rebuild my tower anew in this beautiful country with such loving people. Perhaps even more powerful was the distinct sensation that I had finally come home.

This piece was written in response to a writing prompt from Digital Journalism, a course with University of California, San Diego.