I haven’t posted anything in here since my arrival to Spain. There are many reasons. More than I would have wanted. Either way, I’ve been on more or less on a writing hiatus. This normally only happens when I have too much to write about, or when I’m incredibly, heartbreakingly sad. Unfortunately, it’s been the latter.
It was a rough summer. I didn’t go to the airport feeling like I was leaving my American life in order. It wasn’t a peaceful farewell. In fact, I felt like chaos was biting my heels, all the way up through security. I felt a bit cracked. I’ve traveled and moved enough to know that you cannot run away from or leave behind your problems. They will always pop up…sometimes on even the sunniest of days, and are they are even louder on the rainiest. So I knew that I wasn’t leaving my issues in the airport, or let alone America….they were boarding the plane with me.
“You travel here and you travel there, trying to get out from under the cloud, and nothing works, and then one day you realize you’ve been carrying the weather around with you.”
Summer wasn’t ALL horrible. There were some good moments, some good laughs, some great memories, but none of them could fix or prepare me for the situation I found myself in before I could even get over jet-lag. Only 2 days after being back in Spain, I soon realized that the person I had been waiting to be reunited with again after 3 long blistering summer months, the first guy I had ever said “te quiero” to, the person I had so cautiously and carefully given my heart to, had taken theirs back from me.
Before I even went back to the states for the summer, before we had even said goodbye, I had already started picturing the perfect reunion…an infinite hug, the perfect kiss, the shyness, a summer dress. But none of it occurred. Not one thing I had imagined took place. Except for the summer dress. After a couple of hours of unsettling conversation, I was left in the Atocha train station with my heart at my feet and the Pacific Ocean pouring down my cheeks. Until that day, I had never felt that kind of broken. The kind of pain that makes your whole body want to sink as if it were an anchor. I walked back towards my hostel with a hole the size of Texas in my chest and a shattered soul . I accidentally walked in front of a moving car, who fortunately stopped in time. For almost 2 weeks I slept with kleenex under my face. But I couldn’t sleep. I was shaken. Panic and fear kept me company for quite some time. Almost 3 months later and I’m glad to be able to say that they are mostly gone now.
That perfect (perhaps delusional) reunion I had pictured all summer still floats around in my heart like a lost kite stuck in a tree….and sometimes when the wind kicks up, I see it flapping around helplessly. It doesn’t know where to go. The daydream was home for such a long time…all the possibilities, the anticipation, the nerves. It was like waiting in line for hours to see a movie that you never got to see. You still wonder…what happened in the end.