My roommate here in Spain and I are fairly close. This is to be expected after sharing the adventure of the abroad experience together. One of my favorite things about her is her story-telling ability. She always has a great story to share. This one came up in our conversation this week about preparing to leave Sevilla:
Katie was 10 and her younger cousin was 5. They had just come back from errand running where Katie’s mom had bought the young cousin a small helicopter toy to play with. As the younger cousin was flying his little helicopter through the sky, he suddenly grabbed one of the blades and purposefully broke it off. Katie had been sitting with him, seeing all of this unfold. Dumbfounded and annoyed, she asked, “Why did you just break the gift my mom just gave you?” The five-year-old, in complete seriousness, looked at her, replying, “If we don’t talk about it, it will be OK.”
That story makes me laugh. Can you imagine a five-year-old turning to you and saying that? While he is quite precocious, I’m wondering if WHY that story strikes me as funny is because that is the mode out of which we’re tempted to operate: If I ignore it, it’ll go away. If we don’t confront that issue, we’ll be fine. If I pretend that everything is OK, the hard stuff will disappear. In a desperate attempt to keep it together, we gloss and glaze over the life of our hearts. I’ve learned that can be a very dangerous thing.
But it is so easy to do. As I sit just a mere two days from leaving this place, I wish I could fool myself with that line, that if I don’t talk about it, it will, indeed be OK. I wish I didn’t have to face a series of difficult goodbyes, the packing of the suitcase, the last walk through the park, the last glass of Sangria on a sidewalk café as the sun sets, the last trip to buy the daily bread with Victoria. I don’t want to face these things because they mean I must confront that my Sevilla time has ended, that I must wake up from this dream of a reality and return to a land that is so very different, that I must move on to what is next in this great journey. It means acknowledging that this place has entered my core, becoming apart of the fabric of my life.
While Katie and I joke about not talking about it, we have talked quite a bit about what it means to have spent this time here, the joys in returning home, the challenges in returning home, what we hope to take with us, the goals we have because of our time here. In that talking (and as verbal processors!), we have gained some valuable insight as we voiced things aloud, and we have found a safe place to consider and ponder exactly why leaving is difficult. Regardless of whether we talk about it or not, this transition is difficult. But we forge ahead as it is all apart of this crazy and full journey of life, knowing that the beauty only increases.
But really, let’s not talk about it.
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1 comment:
Okay, we won't talk about it, but--of course we'll be happy to see you, hug you, and explore how life has changed for you the past few months as you are ready to make the transition to the "real world."
Minnesota isn't the same as Florence and Seville, but it will offer you the nurturing of "home."
Here's to your return.
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