Leaving Illinois–leaving family, friends, and church community–was hard as usual. Well, maybe even harder than usual. I flip on the electric kettle and wait at the counter’s edge while my Barry’s tea bag floats atop the milk in the bottom of my favorite mug. I’m back in Spain and life in the States feels far away. “Well, here I am. Alone again.”
My bags are unpacked. My house is relatively clean except the random projects strewn around the living room. I live downtown and it just feels so quiet.
Then again…
A neighbor (and her irritating dog) dropped by because I’d promised her chocolate for watching my apartment while I was gone. She apologized over and over again for killing my plants and insisted I take the remaining straggler with me before she killed that one too.
Another neighbor (a new one) dropped by to ask if my apartment was for rent. Umm…
Yet another neighbor dropped by to ask if I could pick up her daughter from school. She caught me during a salad laden with chia seeds. While we were chatting, I felt a seed swelling between my front teeth. I couldn’t subtly pry it out with my tongue, so there it stayed and I punctuated the conversation with seedy smiles.
My neighbor boy dropped by to visit, strewing cookie crumbs across the floor as he made his rounds, examining everything new in the house. “What did you miss most?” his mom asked him. “Her or her toys?” He grinned and looked away. But he pointed at me.
As I was out and about this morning, I decided to make a list of the things I like about being back in Spain. The cons can go without mention this time.
- The sunshine!
- The accessibility to quality food, especially fresh produce.
- Knowing my way around stores.
- Having sales tax included in the price.
- Living downtown where neighbors pop in and out and almost everything I need is within walking distance.
- Good ol’ Spanish directness. (Yes, this can get annoying too, but I’m choosing the positive side today.) This morning, as I was standing at the hardware store counter, another customer plunked a packet of screws on the counter and said they were the wrong size. “How do we know you didn’t take some out?” asked the clerk, eyes narrowing. “There’s a screw of a different class.” Indeed, on a bed of bland screws was a gold-colored one. Where had it come from? There would be no getting around the fact that the package had been tampered with. I felt a giggle bubbling up but tried to swallow it down. Even in customer service, there were no niceties. No frills or lace bordering this conversation.
- Amazon packages that arrive rápidamente with or without Prime.
- Fast internet.
- Cheap phone plans.
- The reminder that God is here too.
- The variety of people–colors, ages, personalities, nationalities–all piled into my neighborhood.
- The late schedule. When I roll out of bed at 8:00, the streets are still pretty quiet, as if I’m not the only one reluctant to get started on the day.
- My apartment. Knowing my kitchen–what utensils and pots and pans I have and what is in my fridge because I’m the one who put it there.
That’s all for now. See? I’m already feeling less alone and more… I don’t know… ready.
Photo by John McArthur on Unsplash
My Thoughts From Afar | 