On this day (last time I was in Spain), a part of me felt like it was dying.
On this day (last time I was in Spain), I had to say goodbye to a life and a girl I'd fallen in love with.
On this day (last time I was in Spain), all I could do was hope I'd find a way to get back here - I promised myself I'd stop at nothing to do so.
On this day (last time I was in Spain), my Spanish parents brought me to the airport, L waited with me, trying her best to distract us both from what was coming.
On this day (last time I was in Spain), Conor left me a penny in the bin as I passed through security, to tell me it would all be okay.
On this day (last time I was in Spain), all I could do when L disappeared on the other side of the wall was listen to my song over and over and over again.
On this day (last time I was in Spain), I smiled when I saw the sign in front of my seat that read, "Life Vest Under Your Seat."
On this day (last time I was in Spain), the storybook Spanish Fairytale of a summer was violently shut and taken out of my hands and all I could do was cry the whole way home, and for months and months and months afterwards.
Hell, I'm crying right now listening to that song I have forever branded as Day 88's song:
"I've got a tight grip on reality, but I can't let go of what's in front of me here.
I know you're leaving in the morning when you wake up;
Leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream."
That day was both the worst and the most amazing day. Leaving everything behind was the most difficult thing I could have ever been asked to do. But waking up to a girl who had grown to love me in such a little amount of time and made me feel so lucky and happy. Waking up to two people downstairs who I'd grown to call my second family there, missing work, to be there for me. Waking up, knowing I had to go back, but realizing all the love I was surrounded by from people who just three months earlier I didn't even know - it was amazing.
It's truly incredible how 88 little days can change your life so much.
Yes, I made it back, as I had promised myself I would. But it's not the same. Every few days I'll see Shandy or franken-fish, or notice it's 7:30 at night and I'm in Madrid, or walk by the statue/circular bench outside the metro station after lessons with Nacho, or see a head of cabbage at the fruteria. And every time I'll have to tell myself she has a right to never want to have anything to do with me again and I don't have the right to do anything about that. But it doesn't mean I don't wish I had the balls to try. That I didn't have the sometimes obnoxious "everything is how it's supposed to be" voice preaching inside of my head.
It's still wonderful and there's nowhere I'd rather be, but it's not the same. Those three months were - without a doubt - the best three months of my life. Sometimes I catch myself wondering if they'll ever be topped. I'm only 23. It'd be silly to say for certain they won't be. But they were just so perfect. And I'm so grateful for them.
Without them, I wouldn't be back here. I would have never learned about the Master's program I'm currently in. I would have never considered living in Spain. I might not have truly considered being a teacher. I wouldn't have left my life that I wanted but that wasn't making me happy on a daily basis.
Although I may not have that perfect storybook adventure this time around, I do find myself every single day stopping to think how happy I am here. I do find myself thinking how grateful I am to have returned, to be in the fantastic city, to be getting a Master's degree, to be teaching, to have a wonderful place with great roomies, to be living a life abroad, to be speaking Spanish, to have my Spanish family nearby, to go on adventures. And I am so very grateful that this time around, I don't have to leave after a mere 88 days.
I cannot imagine how lost I would feel if I had to go home today. And I thought I felt lost last summer!! Reentry is already a b*tch, but add relationships into the mix and it's horrendous. I know I made some awful choices when I went home last summer and hurt just about everybody that meant the world to me, but I gotta say, I'm surprised I was able to keep myself together at all. Just the thought of "What if I had to get on a plane and go back to the USA today?" makes me feel like throwing up.
Eighty-eight days may not seem that many to a person who's living a life of routine in the same place with the same people and the same job, but when you're on a foreign adventure with all new people and places and experiences, etc. - it's a shockingly long period of time; a period of time which has the power to change all of your intrinsic perspectives about life you've held since you were born and, more importantly, to change who you are. And to have all of those changes to happen to you just like that and suddenly be ripped away from it all - that's utterly disorienting and devastating.
I know I won't be here forever. I know that in July I'll have to board that plane. But this time, I will know what I'm doing (I hope!) and I will be the confident, sanguine, loving, adventurous girl I need to be to succeed. ;) At least 211 days to go - phew. I'm so happy I'm not even 1/3 done this go around! ^_^
And so, to end this milestone of a blog post, the poem I wrote for last year's Day 88 entry:
Life Vest Under Your Seat
(Chelly's Version)
Good afternoon ladies and gentleman,
and Madrid already behind me,
the exquisite, old buildings of Spain
framing a jaded, hardened yet delicate girl,
good afternoon ladies and gentleman,
we're currently flying high at an altitude of two thousand feet,
high like my sanguine hopes
after responding to your first email, a question,
you asked could you show me around the city sometime,
according to international regulations,
you'll find four emergency doors on this aircraft,
or how about a stroll around Parque Europa, maybe cupcakes in Retiro,
living without expectation, practically limitless
the many ways the nighttime looked, we'd watch clouds
turn into stars, always taking the night bus
always amusingly too late for our own good,
you giving me the window seat; your favorite seat,
we're flying at a velocity of nine hundred
kilometers, I told you
the truth; how I felt,
that last night after a picnic turned to stone tears,
because I want to remember you at home, cabbaging,
preparing for long walks with copious amounts of water bottles,
under the sweating, cornflower sky
of Spain's late afternoons,
sweaty like the two basking in the glow of half-light,
with Madrid already behind me,
the truth; how I felt,
they ask us to please use
our seat belts, not to unbuckle them
until the captain has turned off the seat belt sign,
make sure seat-backs,
you have to message me, are in the upright position.
XOXO
No comments:
Post a Comment