"Buen Día after Buen Día"

I threw up all the way to the airport.

I could blame it on the nerves found in moving to a new country, or in my dad’s driving, or the 5 AM wake up call, but in honesty it’s because I turned 26 the night before and a bonfire surrounded by friends and family makes wine taste better.

I was pretty terrified the first day, the weight of it all falling on me in a foreign tongue. Not terrified of change, of the new place or new job or new year of life, but of being away. Being back with my family after a year in California brought so much peace and closeness.

And there I was, leaving again.

And here I am, in a bustling airport with two oversized checked bags and my best friend in a new place to call home, with a massive hangover, and an anxiety in my chest that can only be battled by taking things day by day.

I love doing things that terrify me because then it turns into this:

Driving through the familiar streets of Barva for the first time since October, and our friend that owns the cheese shop by our old school is waving at us excitedly and we at him through the open car windows, “Girls! So happy to see you!” And it sounds a lot like welcome home.

And then, bags unpacked and an empty fridge, Lau and I go to the verdulería and run into Alé, and he takes a moment to tell us the names of fruits and vegetables we’ve never heard of and how to prepare them. We prepare them. We have mini feasts.

We want more new-flavor feelings and we’re pinching pennies, so we ask our friend Maikol if he can take us to the weekend market and show us around, and the world of color he walks us through brings me close to tears too many times to count and I feel silly about crying over a market but at the same time I am so in awe. I am so in awe that these are our new weekends. That these are our new friends. That I get to teach with Mollie, Laura, and Livia. That Katie and Nate are the coolest neighbors and know the card games my family plays at home. That Spanish will soon sound as familiar as the songs Lau plays in the mornings - so many words to learn and dance to and one day sing back. That rock-scrambling hikes up the river with these new friends will make my muscles and my heart grow stronger. That taking this day by day won’t be a battle at all when each day is a good one. Good day after good day.

Am I still terrified? Of course I am.

And then a stranger compliments the color of my eyes and my brain says, Isn’t it wonderful that they’re a perfect mix of my sister’s and brother’s? or someone tells me my kindness radiates off of me in waves, Thank you, I’m pretty sure my bleeding heart is the same shape as my mother’s and “I really love how proud you are of where you come from,” and that’s because I am my father’s daughter.

And I think about where I was, throwing up all the way to the airport, because it was 5 AM and my dad was driving and I had too much wine and I turned 26 and was moving to a new country with my best friend, and I feel like my body knew what was coming. That I had to make room. That there is so much space to fill up with buen día after buen día. That tomorrow I’ll taste new fruits and still miss my mom, and every day I am closer to the person I’ve always been.

I’m terrified, and that gives me so much to look forward to.

♡ Shelb

P.S. I miss you. Come visit x