Yes, Spain has always been a dream of mine. But at the moment this trip was booked, I convinced myself it was only to embark on a spiritual journey I desperately longed for. This was due to my emotional roller coaster of a year stemmed from heartache and learning to love myself.
California is home to the city of Alhambra. Alhambra is home to a beautiful street filled with giant palm trees and pretty houses. AKA Granada. Spain is home to the city of Granada, inhabiting a grand Moorish castle, The Alhambra. No need to connect a series of complicated dots, as this is more than obvious. The only one I’ve ever loved called himself the ‘Great Son of Alhambra’, the dork that he was. The great dork. He took great pride in his city and was always holding it up on a silver platter. I suppose this city was top on my list due to him…perhaps making me think I would have a moment of clarity, closure, something. The moment we arrived in Granada, I felt a strange but enticing energy in the air. I knew this place would be different than the rest. And then it happened.
I stepped onto the rooftop terrace of our grand home away from home, and there it was. The Alhambra. Immediately embarrassed, as I felt my throat close and my eyes cloud with water. Why was I crying? Someone very important to me explained that my emotions were nothing to shy away from. That part of my life left a deep wound in me. And as deep and as wide as it was, it was easily triggered. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t moved forward and healed. It just means that I am a person who feels her memories as if they were her present; touchable, breathable, ache-able. And it’s okay. It’s a scar, forever imprinted on my flesh like a painful, but wonderful tattoo. Forever a reminder of the love I once had, the pain I went through, and the time I overcame it all.
- Barcelona, Spain
- Seville, Spain
- Granada, Spain
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