Today is August 9th which means I've been home for almost two months now, and everything feels more unreal than ever. I can't believe that I'm sitting in my bed in the United States and I no longer have to go to sleep at night thinking of loved ones so far away. I can walk through my day with my eyes closed now because everything is back to normal and it's the most uncomfortable comfort I've ever experienced.
On June 11th I survived another day of impossible travel on international flights that just don't seem to ever be in my favor. While everyone at home was expecting my return on June 28th I had secretly planned on coming home early to surprise my best friends on the 11th. And so began one of the longest and most emotional days of my life...
My goodbyes were complete when I hugged my best friend Emma goodbye that morning on the sidewalk and headed to the airport. I couldn't believe how fast the year had gone by nor could I truly convince myself that it was more than an intricate dream concocted of powerful but fleeting emotions. The only way to look or move was forward with a strikingly bitter feeling of uncertainty and apprehension. My year in Spain that I'd planned for for so long was over and there was no other path to take as I moved through time and space back to my world of familiar faces, old stories, and routine.
In the airport I couldn't identify myself with the spaniards that excitedly waited to visit the United States nor the Americans that obnoxiously pranced around the place with almost complete glee and ignorance to their surroundings and the culture that laid just beyond their personal boundaries...
I can't tell you how alone I felt in those hours as I traveled from one life of mine back to the other-caught on the cusp of all that I used to know and all that I'd learned. I didn't know what I wanted or where I wanted to be or who I wanted to be with. I just wanted to stop saying goodbye to people and to stop feeling like my heart couldn't be complete because I'd left it with too many different people in too many different places.
I kept to myself both in the airport and plane. While passengers slept, I read Emma's letter on the plane. Her jumbled emotions poured out of the words. Yet somehow they perfectly wrapped up the entirety of eight amazing months that we'd spent nearly everyday together. We will never be so young and carefree again as we were during those months. We won't lie under the sun for hours and talk about our young lives or walk along the sea at night, under the moonlight, and tell about secrets stories that have scarred our souls. Her smile adds beauty to my history, and her memory gives warmth to a cold chapter of raw and personal growth in my life. I never thought I'd learn to love that crazy girl as much as I did in the time we had together.
Just before sunset our wheels touched pavement- American pavement. The New York City skyline never looked so beautiful in my life as it did on that evening through a tiny and finger-smudged window. I grabbed my bags and ran through every line and customs check with the most impatient desire of feeling the love and safety of my mothers arms after many long months.
That hug meant home. It meant beginning again.
It meant "sigue fuerte" to continue strong...
At first it looked like I could pick up on life here right where I left off, but slowly (and painfully) I'm beginning to see how much people have changed and how foreign even "home" can feel.
During the first week of being back I felt helplessly lost in deep thought and distaste for how simple, carefree, and privileged my life in the United States is. I wanted to sell everything and move to a shack in Africa. Gosh I can be unrealistic sometimes...
Then I just wanted to spend time with everyone, every single day, and live like the new person I thought I'd become. But I'm also beginning to see which old habits I'v fallen back into and the new areas of my personality that have surprisingly flourished.
So here I am two months later continuing to wake up each day and ask myself what I learned from my year abroad and how I can apply that new knowledge to the way I live here.
That enormous european chapter of my life is just part of my life. It's a part of who I am now. Its effects will forever linger in my bones. My nerves will chill and tears will pour at the thought of the hardships and sheer joy that I faced in Denia, Spain.
But looking back, even now, it was still the most beautiful mess I've ever been through.
And I wouldn't trade it for anything.
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