Home sweet sweet effing HOME.

Tomorrow is the two week mark since I re-touched ground in the Land of Heaven. Essentially, I have this to say:

I have the best life. And the best friends. Ever.

July 15th turned out to be infinitely more grand than I spent months imagining it would be. The second the plane wheels thudded on the LAX runway, there was no sign of a disappearing act for the nutty grin that had plastered itself on my face. I'm sure the airport maintenance lady thought I was completely off my rocker when I excitedly asked her where the nearest bathroom was and practically sprint-skipped in the direction she pointed. The next thing I knew, familiar chums were popping out from under towels in the back seats of Mrs. Olson's beast of a car chattering nonstop nonsense and before I could even catch my breath, old times slipped in as if I had never left.

I'm figuring out slowly that Spain wasn't just a figment of my oft unruly mental capacities after all, but I could swear I've been in America for at least months now so much has happened. Glorious Trifecta reunions. Rampageous elephants and magical 21's. BBQs with domestically advanced best friends I never would have guessed I'd have. Precious hours with the one person I love most in this world and soaking in the sheer joy that is seeing Grams. Delightfully delicious dinner parties and more food than my poor stomach knows what to do with. And finally, temporary release from twelve months of being strapped into an emotional roller coaster more dippy and loopy than any expert Magic Mountain engineer could dream up.

Oh, but it's so good to be back.

And so it is. Life goes easy on me…mmm, well, most of the time.

I daresay some of my most emo moments here in Spain have been in the El Prat Aeropuerto. For all the depressing goodbyes I have had to bid there as well as all the times I have returned from trips knowing no one in that anxious crowd standing outside the terminal was waiting for me (haha). But my time is coming soon enough when I will at long last be able to say adios and good riddance to the overkilled airport.

July 15^th is actually approaching rather quickly, but ironically enough, I have been feeling increasingly torn regarding my imminent return. There are moments when I can hardly stand the seeming centuries that remain. The thought of finally physically being in the same place as where my heart is brings me to states of bursting impatience. The impending joys of particular reunions, of familiar foods, of the comfort of merely being home are nearly unfathomable but oh-so-enticing.

And then there is the requisite flipside. Occasionally, I find myself trapped in a pocket of panic for as much excitement is promised in the coming days, much uncertainty looms closely behind. While S is leaving many of her secrets here in Barcelona, I am returning home to face mine. No more running away to the other side of the world or hiding behind the “invisible” status façade.

I still cannot rightly outline the expectations I held coming into this year, but after a full-blown twelve months, I will say it was nothing like I expected at all. There were so many hits and misses, moments of desperation and triumph alike, and thanks to alllll the shit that went down, quite a bit of morphing. Who am I these days, you ask? Who can say? Certainly not the girl who left the Land of Heaven one year ago. Ask me to detail in what ways exactly I've been transformed and whether it has been positive change, and try as I might, I will have no words for you. But I do know though that while one stage ostensibly comes to a close, no matter the changes undergone, the journey continues…