2019 Holiday Letter

Recently, as I was taking my daily mental stroll through my thoughts in search of inspiration to write, it occurred to me that it wouldn't be a bad idea to write a holiday letter on my blog. So much happened in 2019 that picking one thread to follow is extremely difficult, as many are woven into deeper fabrics that I just don't have the strength to put into words yet. Or maybe ever. And as I've noted before, writing about the mundane feels like a betrayal of these bigger experiences that take up much more room in my head. So a holiday letter feels like a nice compromise--I'm tasked with recounting the year but must do so with brevity, coherence, and chronological order. I was inspired by my grand aunt Toot, 89, who sent me a Christmas letter right on time last month. Of course, I started in on this and then had to turn my computer in for a 3-week long keyboard replacement (island time), so please excuse my belated reflections in a moment when everyone has shifted back to looking forward.

Coincidentally (or maybe not), I began writing this letter exactly one year from the day my dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer. It's been a full year since I've known a world without that pain. I'm sad of course, but also strangely relieved that I've managed to survive the first year. Of course I'll have to start preparing for the anniversary landmines, but I hope and believe I'm correct in thinking that things will continue to get a bit easier rather than harder. I really have noticed change for the better recently--my bouts of sadness are shorter and the time between them is longer. When I first got back to Spain and settled in, I was an emotional werewolf, transforming every two to three weeks for at least a few days. Poor Oscar bore the brunt of it and lived to tell the tale.

January 2019 started with me at home, making an unplanned visit to see my family. At the moment the clock struck midnight, I had my arm around my dad as we swayed and listened to Auld Lang Syne playing from the television. It felt kind of like staring down a really long, dark tunnel and knowing that you had to start walking through it. I made no resolutions.

After the first week of the year had passed, I flew back to Spain. It was not what I thought I would do, and it was actually not my decision, but my parents insisted I go back. I had a life on the island: an apartment, a job, loved ones, and happiness. Staying home would have afforded me more time with my dad, but there would have been a cost. I really can't say what my mental state would have been if I had stayed in the cold, gray Mid-Ohio Valley indefinitely, awaiting the bitter end. Instead, I returned to sunshine and my students, and lived relatively happily (all things considered) in that bubble for a couple of months. I went for a lot of walks as I let my ankle heal from a bad November sprain. Oscar started bringing me a fresh papaya/orange/ginger juice at school every day. We woke up at 4:30 one morning and climbed the stairs to my roof to see a blood moon.

In February, I slowly started running again. I eased back in with just minute-long intervals, and very gradually worked my way up to 10 and 15 minutes at a time. Exercise combined with lengthening days helped me quite a bit. I also got to visit the peninsula for Fulbright's mid-year seminar, which was held in Valencia. The trip was 5 days of paella, wine, cool art and architecture, and connection with other Americans (something I hadn't realized I missed so much).

Madrid's Parque El Retiro

L'Albufera, Valencia

Las Fallas exhibit

March is perhaps the blurriest month of them all, and seemed like an entire year on its own. It started with a visit from my dear intrepid Elizabeth, which happened to coincide with Carnaval in Tenerife (the second largest Carnaval celebration in the world!). 

Unfortunately, at the end of her visit, bad news from home got worse, and once again, I found myself booking last-minute tickets to Ohio. I was disconsolate for many reasons, but especially because Oscar and I had just bought tickets home for June, when we thought he'd get to meet my dad. On the day before my departure, we were eating breakfast when I asked him if there was any chance at all that he could find coverage for his business and come home with me for a week. He paused for a second, and then said "¿por qué no?" The next thing I knew, we were on our way, following the sunset across the Atlantic. I can't possibly describe how much it helped me to have him there by my side, whether I was using him as a pillow or just feeling the comfort of his presence. And best of all, when Oscar walked through the door, it was a total surprise for my dad, who thought he'd never get to meet him. Their meeting will forever be one of the most heart-bursting moments of my life. 

The heartbreak of the goodbye at the end of that visit isn't something I'd wish on my worst enemy, but we survived it. A week later, my dad left the Earth. 

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To be honest, I really don't remember much of April or May. I think I was numb for quite a bit of that span, although a major bright spot was a solo trip I took to Toledo, Spain during Semana Santa (Holy Week). I spent four days wandering through the streets, smelling lilacs, eating marzipan, and revelling in how every corner I turned afforded me another beautiful eyeful. No bad angle in that city. 

Near the end of the month, my dear friend and Bowdoin/Fulbright comrade Lillian came to visit from Madrid. We rented a car so she (and I!) could see more of the island, and had a blast. 

Why yes, we are holding a Fulbright bandana at this scenic overlook!!

Unfortunately, life delivered another wallop on the last day of her visit, when I found out my grandmother Elsa had passed away in a house fire, exactly two months to the hour after my dad took his leave. The sense of loss I felt and continue to feel is tremendous. Not only did I lose my loving, supportive grandmother, but also the entire house in which I spent a large chunk of my youth. I'm still very puzzled by the cruelty of it all. I guess I thought I'd earned immunity for a while, but that's just not how life works. 

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June marched right through the door and there was little I could do to stop it. I ended my Fulbright year by planning for another, as I found out I was to be the mentor for the Canarias contingent the next year. I got to know this group of superhumans who would be working with me from across the country, and felt so thankful to have another year ahead of me. 

Mid-month, I packed up all of my things, dropped them off in a new apartment, and flew home once again with Oscar for that June trip we'd been planning. We stopped one night in Lisbon before the transatlantic leg, and then headed straight from Boston to Maine so that I could show him a little more of where I came from. 

The cheapest flight I'd found back home was actually from Portland, ME to Pittsburgh, which thrilled me beyond belief because it meant I could take Oscar to his first baseball game!! It felt like the perfect way to honor my dad. Our dear friend at the Pirates, Greg Brown, made sure it was an extra-special visit, and I got to meet the announcers I've been listening to on the radio my whole life. More heart-bursting moments. 

After all that excitement, summer at home was a dream filled with flowers, birds, our new dog Curtis, and my mom's cooking. I spent much of it working on materials for our Fulbright Orientation, bursting out of the house around 5 to hit the country roads on my bike. There's really no place I feel more at peace than under Appalachian summer skies. 

Photo by the wonderful Amy Parrish

Toward the end of summer, Liam and I took a fantastic sibling's trip to Chicago, where we ate all the foods we'd always admired from afar (deep-dish pizza, bubble tea, authentic ramen, authentic tacos, etc) and laughed a LOT. Here's hoping it was the first of many such trips!

Soon after that, I was invited to spend a week in Bermuda with Elizabeth and her family, which was such a wonderful and relaxing experience. It was fun to visit a totally different kind of island, and even better to reconnect with my best friend out from underneath the shadow that had been with me in March. 

After a quick turnaround, I was back in Spain again and ready to take on the year. I met all of my wonderful grantees at Orientation, and just loved being the person that got to introduce them to the region and job through conversations and presentations. 

Equipazo canario!!

Once I was back on La Gomera, I settled into my new home with Oscar and his American Staffordshire Terrier, Aráfo. I have to admit, I was pretty apprehensive about living with Aráfo. I was used to dogs of a more delicate size, and was worried I wouldn't even be able to walk him. But my mom armed me with a good harness, and Aráfo worked the magic that all dogs have, and now we're the best of friends. It helps me SO much to have a dog around that I'm fairly certain I'll never live without one again. 

Celebrating 1 year in October!

Since then, I've just been living my life, which (aside from the island location) is remarkably normal. I wake up, go to work, come home, cook, clean, exercise, and fall asleep in the middle of movies. Sometimes I forget I'm 23. It feels like I've lived a lot more life than that, and that I should really be something more like 35. But hey, sometimes I escape the island and travel a bit. This fall, I finally ventured north of Madrid to Asturias and Barcelona. Each trip deserves its own write up, but there's already a subpar Toledo post rotting in my drafts, so they may well remain in my 2019 memory box. That's okay. Fresh slate. 

My Asturian mentor counterpart and all-around shining star Carinna!!

La Sagrada Familia

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It sounds weird to say, but if I had to hand out superlatives, 2019 wouldn't win Worst Year Of My Life. Certainly Hardest Year Of My Life, but not Worst. Too much good happened in between the awful that it somehow tipped the scales. Living in the moment was the key (and still is), as any step outside of that took me somewhere I probably didn't want to be and robbed me of the joy I desperately needed to embrace. Does that mean I'm still clueless about my future? Yep. But did I survive 2019 and come out far more intact than I should have? Yes. And that's what is really important to me now and moving forward. 

So this is my attempt to wipe my mental slate clean by acknowledging (however briefly) the major events of the last year. We'll see if it works to clear this long-standing writer's block and helps me return to the present moment. I'm hopeful it will. Regardless, if you're reading this, thanks for sticking with me. 

Love,

Phoebe