It's been a few weeks since I landed back in my nest in the Canary Islands. After I got over the initial head rush of seeing Oscar IN PERSON and not on a FaceTime call, the rest of my return felt far more mellow than I'd been expecting after all my yearning and nostalgia. It was like I'd just hit pause on this part of my life and stepped away for a while, but the play button let me resume things seamlessly. Throughout college, I was petrified of changes taking place back home in Ohio, like sections of familiar forest being leveled to make way for fracking platforms. But thankfully, these fifteen months haven't changed too much in La Gomera.
The most obvious mark of the passage of time is in my students. I gave myself one day to recover from jet lag before I popped back into the school for a visit (a moment I'd been dreaming of since I'd left). I made it there around recess time, and let the wave of "PHOEEEEEEEEEEBEEEEEEEEEEEEEE" crash over me. We were all so excited to see each other. They were all a bit bigger, their voices a touch deeper, and all just a little more sure of themselves in this world. They had clearly been broken of their hugging habit during the pandemic, which hurt my heart, but just laying eyes on them was enough.
A few of my youngest students had trouble remembering me, and some reverted back to being just as shy as they had been when I first met them. I can't say I wasn't HURT, but I guess I can't be too offended by the workings of the rapidly developing brain. Many students of different ages haven't recognized me when I wave hi in the street, probably due in part to masks, but it's also the toll we pay to the march of time. It makes me feel the same way I felt when I triumphantly returned to my high school to visit over Christmas break during my freshman year of college, only to find that everyone had been living life PERFECTLY FINE without me and that the impact of my graduating class had been gently washed away like footprints on a beach (happy Cancer season to all my fellow dramatic little babies out there). Anyway, it prompts a period of self reflection and mini ego death that is necessary to keep on living and putting down new roots in different places. Closure, I think they call it?
I've found that stepping back into life here also regresses me in some ways to the headspace I was in when my dad got sick and passed away during my first Fulbright year. Not really in a bad way, though. It's just that my newly established life in North Carolina has never included my dad alive, whereas this one in La Gomera has. I even caught myself thinking "woah, wait, my dad is dead" as I was walking down the street the other day. While digging through my closet here (and absolutely dreading having to pack all the clothes I left behind in March 2020), I found a little bag that he helped me stuff full of miscellaneous items in a way that fit just right in my suitcase. It's remained largely untouched, and I was immediately hit by the memory of him shoving things in while I held the bag open and spiraled about moving to a random island. I think I miss him the very most when I'm packing/preparing for a trip, because he was the most well-traveled person I knew and always had answers to all of my questions and solutions to the infinite problems I invented in my head. A lot of times the answer was just "worry 80% less", but it helped so much.
When I first got back here, the streets were very quiet. While June is typically a very calm month for tourism in La Gomera, travel restrictions and general hesitation have made things even slower. There's currently no ferry arriving to the port of Valle Gran Rey, so the long road filled with hairpin turns is the only way to get here. Many of our favorite restaurants are closed for a month of well-deserved vacation. While the local economy could always use the boost, I have selfishly loved the relative peace, being surrounded by familiar faces, and hearing almost exclusively Spanish being spoken.
And as for Oscar and me, we've both changed in subtle ways, largely for the better. After more than a year of being apart, we both agree that we know each other better than ever before, having relied exclusively on verbal communication to keep our spark alive. We're obviously far more appreciative of our time together now, which has led to some very fun excursions, acting like fools in public, lots of selfies, and healthy doses of ice cream and Spanish wine. The fine lines around our eyes and mouths have settled in more, and Oscar has developed a few canas (gray hairs!). Every time the light catches one, I get a little emotional that I get to be the person by his side as we move through the years. He's just so good.
Well, I reckon that's enough baring of the soul for one blog post, so I will take my leave. Coming back here has unlocked the part of my mind that thinks in intelligible sentences, so I hope to keep things rolling as I settle back into the States. That is IF I can come up with a rebrand I'm happy with--while I will be back to the Canaries as much as I possibly can be, it just won't be Canary Current. Like I said earlier: closure. Stay tuned!
5 comments:
This post twas worth the wait. I look forward to reading more, maybe in "Carolina Current"? Glimpses of answers here and there, while more questions wait, maybe not to be answered for the general audience.
I wrote the most thoughtful comment and Google stymied me. It was something about how deep and unexpected this post is, something about how you so expertly connect place to feeling, and how glad I am that La Gomera opened its arms to you, quietly, sans tourists, to savor it again. Oh how I wish Oscar could ride home with you. Some beautiful day. Good luck packing, love. Roll it up, pack it in, and remember Daddy, King of the Sky.
Dear Phoebe,
Seeing you and Oscar together always brings a big smile to my face--one that reflects my smiling soul! Truly, you two are, and you both have, something very, very special. Keep it, share it, guard it, grow it, tend it, and defend it. And, when (if ever) in doubt, love 20% more! ;)
Best,
Bob
I am so inspired by your journey, Phoebe. What a beautiful young woman you are. I wish I had the courage you have to put one foot in front of the other and try new places and relationships. Your parents taught you well. And then, of course, there is your own spark. Not ever to be unappreciated. I wish you and Oscar the very best.
Bill was larger than life in many ways, as is your mother. I've never met you, but your joy is quite infectious and it is just so lovely to see a couple so very much in love.
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