- Andres -
- Felix -
Last year, on September 19th, I flew home from Spain.
After spending a month in a completely foreign culture, I found myself overwhelmed with emotion when I had to leave it. There is no way for me to explain it. There is no way for me to describe my
morrina. My "pain-one-feels-for-a-place-far-away." It was one of the strangest, most powerful feelings I've ever experienced; an overwhelming homesickness for a place not my home. On the plane home I cried and cried. Cried for people I had come to love so intensely. Cried for a culture I couldn't remain in.
And then, this summer, some of that culture came to me. Four students from across the world came to live with us for six weeks. Two of them, Andres and Felix, are from the very island I grew to love so dearly. The eight of us have laughed together, fought together, cried, played, explored, learned and grown together. We visited Sea Ranch, San Fransisco, the Jelly Belly Factory, Mrs. Grossman's Sticker Factory, Hollywood, surfing competitions, the Sierra Nevadas, just to name a few. It was wonderful. And in the midst of many difficult personal trials...I was, in a sense, back "home." A different, strange, wonderful, happy, home.
But today Andres and Felix flew home.
I stood on a hill overlooking the San Fransisco airport and watched their plane take off and soar into the smog over the Golden Gate Bridge. I knew these six weeks would fly by...but now my spanish brothers have flown away. When we had to say goodbye at security, Andres and I kept each other from crying by comforting each other, "one more year...just one year! Next summer. Maybe next summer!"
Tomorrow we drive to San Fransisco again to take my Belgian brother, Ruben, home.
But all is not depressing and sad. Blanca, my dear Spanish "sister" is still here. School starts in a couple weeks. And hey! Facebook is a-m-a-z-i-n-g for keeping in touch with overseas friends!
And yet, goodbyes are so hard.
