Three days ago, as I sat in the plane that was to take me home, I felt the overwhelming sense of anxiety that I experience every year.
This anxiety is not a result of a fear of flying.
Instead, it is produced upon realizing that my vacation is over and that I am being returned to reality.
The Son, ever kind and considerate, squeezes my hand as the plane takes off.
I smile as I am reminded of the many times he’s done this in the past.
He smiles back and prods, “Alright. Go ahead. It’s time.”
I look out the plane’s small window nostalgically before reciting my ritualistic goodbye.
“Goodbye Mediterranean Sea. Goodbye churros, cafe cortado, and paella. Adios sunny skies, sandy beach, and Gazpacho. Hasta luego Serrano ham, tapas, and vino. I will miss you Manchego cheese, chorizo, horchatas. Till we meet again, madre, familia, vecinos.”
View original post 295 more words