Spent the day making pancakes with strawberries and nutella, looking up festivals in Italy, hastily scribbling names of cities and countries on dates on my calendar. Last night we huddled on a bed covered in blankets peeling mandarins and watching children's movies, talking about the tricks time keeps playing on us and all the things we've done.
It's already the tail end of the first quarter of our year in Spain. The end of the settling-in honey moon period, no more trips to ikea to make a room feel like a home, no more days wagging school and heading to the beach, no more mercadona grocery shopping or sunday 'family' dinners.
Summer's coming fast and soon enough it will be time for four months of living out of a suitcase, reverting to sign language because I know nada of the language, holding maps and looking for street signs, moving from hostel to hostel, figuring out the metro, catching planes and trains and buses. It's time for free wi-fi and shiny new everything. For traveling by myself and meeting a few familiar faces along the way, in London and Madrid and Mykonos.
It just got real. It's time for hellos and goodbyes, for different countries every couple of days, every week, every month. For new phrases to learn in languages I'd never heard spoken aloud, for beaches that rival those from home, for people to create stories with, to fill gaps where the last ones had left off. It's time for tough skin and quick memories and time that's going to go quicker than I'm used to.
Here goes nothing, once again.