Every several months I begin to miss part of my heart, which is found somewhere in Spain. Every couple months I feel like half of me is not where I am. I know that my life is full, and complete, but my youth, my memories of growing up will never be from here…they are always from over there. If you have not gone through this it is hard, but really not that hard at the same time…therefore it causes you to not really do anything about it, and so it goes on…year after year, every several months.
I have grown up now, and traveled back to Spain
with my American family I have changed, and Spain has changed too. My memories have passed, and when I went back I was hoping they would still be living somewhere there for me to find them. They were not. They are not. We all have memories from growing up, but when we are cut from them and move on- it is hard to understand fully how and why they are not continuous. They are faded and embellished in your mind, and so pretty inaccurate. The memories I have of Spain that I think about are gone, they are old, they are in pictures and thoughts that I can share with those who lived them with me. But I have grown up and no longer live there, even though part of me still
lives in the memory of my Spanish youth.
Even though it is not much to bear, it is a longing for something that is not possible. Every once in a while I will dream we move our family over there and Brad works for some company in Spain. This dream is pretty while I sleep, and at first when I am waking up…but it gets more sour as I sit there, because it is me wanting to live in the place of my youth when both the place and my youth have changed and no longer exist in that same form. I could go back and make new memories, but then I’d have fragments everywhere. I could stay and remember the fragments I’ve left in different places and not want to do so anymore…but then how would I live, for that is who I am. I am a fragment of different nations, of different peoples, of different languages and passions and ideas, I am a formation of all these into one- and without one of them I would then, truly be a fragment and not a whole. I have gypsy blood in me, it is always moving, always embracing and always a little tiny bit sad because of the places it has left and the people it will never forget.
PS- it hasn’t helped that I subscribed to a feed from flickr in which I get all the pictures uploaded that are tagged “Spain” it is amazing…I get hundreds every day. Look at the Photos from everyone tagged spain