I’ve been meaning to write this post since my parents and boyfriend both left Spain which was about two weeks ago exactly, but I just didn’t have the motivation. Writer’s block, I think they call it.
However, I’m sitting here in my bedroom in Segovia enjoying my last weekend here and I just heard a family teasing each other and laughing on the street. It made me think of my week with my family here. Actually it made me think of my family in general.
I hate being left. I hate being left more than anything in this world. When we all went to the airport back in January to begin this whole adventure, it was no big deal. I gave out hugs and made my way to my gate, no tears shed.
When Chris, el novio, left I didn’t have that poignant feeling of drowning I normally get when he leaves because my family had just gotten to Madrid that weekend, but when they left a week later I wanted to squeeze myself into one of their suitcases and go with them. Unfortunately I had three weeks left.
The funny thing is even though I had missed them a whole lot and had been looking forward to their visit since I left the States, I wasn’t very nice to them while they were here. It was difficult to have them here in a small Spanish town where they don’t speak the language. It put my translating skills to the test, but that wasn’t why I was frustrated I don’t think.
I knew the Friday they got in that they would be leaving me in a few short days. I hate being left. Especially by my family, my people. We laughed until our stomachs hurt at the silliest things. My father pushed my sister and I on a playground toy for children on the beach in Valencia until we were all crying and begging him to stop.
I got to bunk with my little sister again like we hadn’t done in three months. We watched American TV shows in fluffy bathrobes in a 5 star hotel and ate candy until we wanted to puke. We had a robe party every day while we were in Segovia and she has the pictures to prove it. The last thing I wanted to do was return to my twin bed at my host mother’s apartment by myself for almost another month.
It was like a sick little tease of what I will be returning to, when both Chris and my family were here. They were here to make me laugh and see new parts of this beautiful country I’ve called home since January, but then they were all gone. Just like that, I was alone again.
I’m sitting here alone now, but in one week I’ll almost back in the States. It’s bittersweet. This has been an amazing experience that I would not trade for the world (how clichéd can I get!?), but I’m ready to be home. I’m ready to celebrate DePauw’s annual Little 5 with my friends at school and then get settled into a summer routine again. It’s been real España, but I’m ready to get back to the good ole’ U S of A.