I've been missing Spain lately. Even though I hardly have time to think anymore, what with working two jobs, coordinating with my husband who has returned to law school, walking our dog and keeping up with my demanding social schedule.
But we had a wonderful guest from a little known European country come visit us this last weekend and it brought back the spirit of Barcelona for me. That's what I think I loved and what I miss. The experience and the friendships that we made in Spain. It was a peculiar time for all of us. Not exactly real life, but a sort of existence that was unlike any other time, where we played and talked and experienced with no thought of what lie before us. We only lived in the here and now and embraced the gift that it was.
Sometimes when I am nostalgic for it I picture a dimly lit courtyard at night in a cafe with friends after a long day at the lake. Sometimes a friend's temporary apartment with tapas and music. Sometimes just walking around the city with no particular destination.
The thought of it makes me breathe in deep and slow. It takes away the urgency and frantic rush of the world I live in. And somehow, in that moment everything is alright.