Barely more than two months left. If I were really counting, it would be less than 9 weeks of school, divided by a week-long spring break. As the end becomes more and more palpable, and options-for-later need to become solid plans-right-now, feelings about "the end" and my daily experiences seem to get more vivid and meaningful as well.
There are days where I feel like I'm going to scream at the next creepy old man who so much as mutters an "hola guapa" when I pass. And I just want to go home. Then there are the days where I wish the church bells would never stop ringing, and I never want to leave.
There are days where all I want is to be able to go to the bank without having to worry about endless lines or system failures, and I just want to go home. Then there are the days where I indulge all my senses and revel in the bright colors, sounds and smells of the central market, and I never want to leave.
There are days when I tire of slow internet, ego-centric cruise tourists, inconsiderate drunks outside my window, bad service, late hours, and too many siestas. Those days I could hop on the next flight home and never look back.
Then there are the days where I can't pull my eyes away from the cityscape lined with castles and cathedrals, I linger at the sounds of street musicians and flamenco singers, dig my toes even more into the sand of the Mediterranean beach, and overwhelm my nostrils with the smoke of grilling sardines. Those are the days that the idea of leaving this place and ending this phase of my life seems almost too hard to bare.
Being pulled on a daily basis in such extremes can leave me feeling a bit scattered and listless at moments. In many ways though, it is such a confirmation of everything I love and for which I'm grateful: where I'm from and where I've been. Which then also leaves me so excited for what lies ahead, and the challenges and gratitudes I have yet to uncover.
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