it is time to reflect (iii)

Blog Post 33.

Knowing that I was growing up.

Part of growing up, I realize, is that metaphor of closing the chapters. I am learning that opportunities only exist up until a certain point in life. That, regardless of the steps I take to keep my options open, the world of which I am a part keeps moving, the universe in which this world exists keeps expanding and the clocks continue ticking. The vastness of what is to come becomes smaller in some ways; the me of the past occupies more space as the me of the future occupies less.

Looking back, I felt this especially while abroad. Every day felt numbered because every day was numbered.

It is one of our first days in Cádiz. Sydney, Andrés, Colin and I are at Playa Santa Maria and Andrés says “it’s amazing that we have seventeen whole weeks of this”. The enormity of what lies ahead daunts us, invites us.

We watch the sunset from the land bridge to el Castillo de San Sebastian near Playa la Caleta. It is our last night together in Spain; the moment we’ve been talking about (and thinking about and anticipating and fretting) for weeks. Though we have shared a lot, there is an individuality the experience we have each had. We’ve grown so much in ways we can’t yet recognize. The sun takes her time setting. We take our time finishing tinto de verano from purple cans.

I didn’t feel myself growing up then (we never do). I was 20 years old when I left and 21 years old when I returned. It took time to realize in what ways I had grown up. In what ways I would continue to grow up. I got back to the US and was surprised that I was more confident than I was before going abroad. I am far more conscious of the rarity that is living in a different country for four and a half months, the infinitesimal likelihood of the same opportunity happening upon me anytime soon.

Another part of growing up is, of course, learning about the world I am creating. In many ways, I’ve always known how I want this world to look and what I can expect from myself in it. But being in an environment completely outside of the place where this image and these expectations were founded clarified and altered them. It was a test. It reminded me of the importance of being my own skeptic. In challenging myself, I can be ready for the challenges my world will present.

If you look closely, you can see the light from the setting sun reflect off the underside of the palm leaves. I did my best to do right by this moment.

Usually I’d go to the beach and look at the ocean. Sometimes, though, I would look inland. Sometimes, that was the direction from which the moon would wave to me.

This was the gentle goodbye I received from Spain.

The cheapest tinto de verano money can buy comes from a little purple can. A favorite of Colin’s.

These. People. Colin, Maddie and Andres. Not pictured: Hannah and Sydney.

Es uno de los primeros días en Cádiz. Sydney, Andrés, Colin y yo estamos en la Playa Santa Maria y Andrés nos dice que “es increíble que todavía tenemos diecisiete semanas de todo esto”. La magnitud de lo que hay enfrente nosotros nos intimida, nos invita.

Miramos la puesta del sol desde el puente de tierra al castillo de San Sebastian cerca de la Playa la Caleta. Es la última noche en España; el momento de que hemos hablado (y pensado y tenido la anticipación y el miedo) durante semanas. Aunque hemos compartido mucho, existe una individualidad a la experiencia propia de cada uno de nosotros. Hemos crecido tanto y en modos que todavía no se han revelados. El sol dura en ponerse. Tardamos en acabar del tinto de verano de latas púrpuras.