I'm leaving Spain in a few hours, not to return anytime in the foreseeable future. In thinking about that stark reality, I thought about what I'd write in a letter to this second country of mine if it were a person. It would read something like this:
Dear Spain,
It's been a wild, wild ride, my friend. The last time I left, I knew, in the pit of my stomach, that I'd be back after graduation. It was God's will, so return I did. This time, however, is different; I'm not coming back.
I don't mean to sound morbid or dramatic, but the truth of the matter is there will be no grand, slightly triumphant return. Law school certainly has something to do with it, as I will have neither the time nor the economic means to travel back. However, it's also time to stretch my horizons and explore other parts of the world.
Some of the greatest, freest, wildest, most adventurous days of these first 22.5 years of life have occurred within your boundaries and/or during the times when you were my home base. Indeed, my first time leaving the borders of the United States was to study abroad in my beloved Granada. It was there that I discovered my love for travel and what it meant to have wanderlust. It was there that my friendship was solidified with two of the greatest Spelman sisters an alumna could ever ask for. In Granada, I discovered my love for gelato and architecture, easy days and wild nights. These memories and so many more are the legacy that you and I leave one another. There will, thus, always remain a connection between the two of us. After all, you never forget your first love.
I chose to apply for a Fulbright here for several reasons. First and foremost, I had to come back. I didn't believe that we were done with one another and I wanted more time to know you. Second, I wasn't done with Europe. There were so many more cities I wanted to visit, so it just seemed natural to base myself in a place in which I knew the language and some things about the culture. I also wanted to continue to hone my Spanish skills and actually be the recipient of a Fulbright grant, so I chose a Spanish-speaking country that had a rather large number of teaching grants, since I wanted a fighting chance at one. Thus, my motives were based in love and practicality, two things that seem to guide my life.
Objectively, I knew that this experience would be nothing like the magical 14 weeks that was study abroad. Emotionally, though, a part of me still initially sought out that fierce, burning love that I harbored for Granada. What I discovered was a veritable loathing of Madrid and a more tempered type of affection for you. Never, ever doubt, dear Spain, my love for you; it still exists and always will. However, after 10 months of bureaucracy, bitter talk of the seemingly endless crisis, being immersed in the workforce, and strikes, I'm tired. I need a break. We need a break.
Over the course of my months here, I questioned whether it was wise to have returned. Should I have left the country with precious memories of Granada and let those sustain me? Should I have expanded my horizons and chosen a completely new country? Should I have just stayed home and gone straight to law school? However, now that I'm at the end of this journey and in a reflective stage, I know that God sent me here for a reason. I learned resilience this time around, faith, humility. I know that I can fail and the world won't stop spinning on its axis. I now know that I can still function with an aching soul, a wounded heart. These are lessons that I wouldn't have necessarily learned in another locale, and certainly not at home. These, too, will become part of your legacy to me.
Other than law school, I won't be coming back because it's time to move on. I didn't start my life as a global citizen almost three years ago just to end it because I've become comfortable and complacent here. In order to continue to grow and learn, I have to see more places in the world. While I certainly haven't seen all that Europe has to offer, I'm satisfied with the cities and countries I've seen. Indeed, I've explored more parts of this continent than some Americans will see of our country in their lifetime, and for that I am more than grateful. It is, however, time to thrust myself into a new culture and be scared again. I've gotten so used to you, querida España, that there aren't many surprises left for me here. I need to be immersed in a new land in which there is much to be learned; to encounter a new people who can teach me more about myself and the world, their world. I wouldn't be taking full advantage of the opportunities presented me, of the lessons learned here, if I continued to return and, thus, become stuck in a routine that no longer challenges me.
I'm beyond blessed to have had the experiences that I've had thus far in life. I will forever be grateful to everyone who has helped me get and remain here, from my Father in Heaven to my parents and other family members to my professors and mentors at Spelman. I owe it to all of them and myself to continue to evolve, something which cannot fully happen if I become self-actualized within your borders. I was able to more fully realize and bask in my freedom, so I will always think of these months (all 13.5 of them, in total) with gratitude and fondness.
My writing this long, slightly melodramatic, and really emotional farewell isn't my way of saying that I'll never return, for I will...one day. Rather, I'm saying that I won't return any time soon. It may be three years before I come back; it may be 13. Who knows?
Our days have been long and filled with memories that will travel wherever God next leads me. For one helluva fantabulous adventure, I am grateful. You will be missed, my love. Te echaré muchísimo de menos.
Hasta pronto.
In Love,
Ari.
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