Kristin is laying in bed, not feeling well and I am walking down an off the beaten path type of road. The rain is starting to fall again and I am thinking about the last couple of years of my life.
The sky is growing cloudier and a darker shade of grey.
My energy has been low all day. We had in depth conversations with a new friend Ben, and something about it is bothering me.
I want Kristin to feel better, but I am okay with the alone time.
I'm really proud of myself.
(The stars shined really bright last night.)
I am proud of all I have forgiven myself for, for all the tears and smiles. For the triumphs, money, and new friendships. In honor of the growth of my friends and family. In excitement for the summer of weddings, music, and warmth.
I'm not sure if it is a tear or a raindrop but it makes me look up...a rainbow.
I go back to the hostel in awe. Kristin needs some ginger tea and I would like a glass of wine. Errands are ran and I settle down to read my book. The rain has cooled things down and the clouds are tired. The sun's siesta is over and I move my chair to it.
The rainbow again.
Our hostel mates have turned on a movie, but I decline the invite.
I kind of chug my glass of wine, and I go. I don't really know where I am going to go, but I go.
My heart is so full, I am hanging out with the sun and colors.
I head to the beach thinking of all that both Kristin and I have overcome and all that we have. How lucky we are to have each other and for a day like today...to experience homesickness mixed with passion.
I get to the most beautiful beach, and do the best handstand of my life...
Buses and an unexpected night in Seville await, but it is okay. Old playlists comfort and inspire me.
We finally made it to Tarifa...(I am on the bus, praying its an actual place)...it is, and it's beautiful.
Mountains hug you and the beach tells you it's alright.
We practice more handstands on the Atlantic, yet, watch waves crash in the Mediterranean.
I don't have a story to tell this evening, but it is nice, to just share my bliss