Monday, December 14, 2009

Bookends

I filled my last few days in Granada wandering around with a trembling lip and a painful lump in my throat. Then, on my walk home on my last night, Simon and Garfunkel's "Bookends" came on my iPod and I lost it, weeping like a crazy lady. If you know the song, you know where I'm coming from. Mr. Simon, you sir, have a way of pulling at my heart strings.

My life in Granada has come to an end and I couldn't be more sad. Time went much too quickly.

I spent my last night walking through the city. There are some cities that just completely come to life at night. Granada is one of them. It has that certain warm, golden glow to it that only big cities have, alive and sparkling and intoxicating. It buzzes, pulsates, with its own life and you can't look away even if you wanted to. You just have to stare everywhere all at once to remember, to take it all in. It is completely bewildering and completely wonderful. I wandered through the city's many crowded, bustling plazas, through Christmas festivals filled with happy little children running at my feet and overwhelmed parents chasing after them. I walked slowly, listening to the street musicians and the Spanish I can now understand. It was the perfect way to end my time there, seeing the city at night, at its best.

I am going to miss Granada and its quiet, overwhelming grandeur. I'll miss the food. I'll miss my host family, with whom my goodbye was painfully bittersweet. There aren't words for the gratitude I feel for their infallible kindness. Mostly, I'll miss the amazing friends I made. We'll never all be there together again.

I knew I'd have to leave, that my time there was short. And I know that one day this will not feel as important - as monumental - as it feels today. In fact, I hope that my time in Granada is far from the coolest thing I do with myself. I hope it is just first in a long list of really impressive things. Nonetheless, it has changed me.

I don't think it has made me into a seasoned world traveler or a wine connoisseur or a fluent Spanish speaker or whatever else, but it has made me feel damn good to be alive. I know now that I continue to exist outside my realm of comfort. I know now that I can do things like this, that I want to do things like this. I am standing here at the very beginning of my life and I am looking forward to whatever is next.

I am home now, and I am so glad that I was there.

Thanks for reading.

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