My Emo Moment

Note:  I wrote this on May 12, but do to technical difficulties, have not been able to post until now.

Today as I was walking to my classes I recalled the day last June that I received my letter informing me of my placement for this year.

Last year in Cordoba had been challenging on several levels and I wasn’t entertaining the idea of repeating it.  I had vowed to myself that unless I received my first choice placement, I wouldn’t come back.  I didn’t really expect this to actually happen. 

Low and behold, it did, I came back, and the rest is history. 

After a very positive year in Malaga, the sadness of leaving is creeping in.  I’ve already begun to develop the nostalgia for what I’ll be leaving, more than likely for good.

There’s a lot I wont miss and am looking forward to upon returning to my American home.  But my two years in Europe are coming to an end and the sights and customs that have become familiar and comfortable will slowly fade into memory and back into the novelty they once were: the rolling hills of olive trees, the uneven cobblestone streets, the lazy and self-indulgent days, the bustling market, the loud smokey restaurants, and the random graying man singing flamenco under my window, on the bus, or in the bar.

After denying it long enough, I’ve fully accepted that this has all been real life; nothing about his experience has been fake, a work of fiction, or something to do until my “real life” eventually began.  But because I’ve accepted that, I must also accept the need to move on and progress.

Too soon this period of my life will become a part of my personal history.  But what makes it OK is my knowledge that this place and my memories of it don’t cease to exist once I leave.  Furthermore, I have the upmost confidence that I’ll be back eventually, even if I don’t yet know when.