Volcanic Ash Part 2

3 05 2010

We are recovered taken back to where we started from, the insurance company paying the cost of a taxi … as it Spain on a Sunday … no recovery truck willing to do the distance. I am sitting there in the front of that taxi with the overwhelming urge to cry, my chance of getting to France now lost; no idea what to do next. Already I had taken the kindness of strangers to the limit.

I swallowed my proud and made a call to an old friend from the taxi, asking for help … it seemed so wrong that after one year of being away I am ringing them again asking for help, putting my dramatic problems on their doorstep – not the way I wanted to go back … not the way I planned it at all. He offers me a place to stay immediately, so I head in the direction of the place I called home for the first time in a year.

I turn up looking like a Romanian Gypsy, eyes as dull as coal, face bare and hair scrapped back. I feel ugly, I feel useless, I feel old. We sitting at a café drinking coffee and catching up, then back at his house all of a sudden the room is full of people, my tiredness and my rusty (and never that hot) Spanish making it impossible for me to keep up. I am giving 2 kisses and saying hello and after that I fade quietly back to the sofa. It’s funny but that’s when I first saw Mario – he is from Chile he rents the upstairs of my friends house – I remember being introduced but I don’t remember registering him.

The next day, after precious sleep I spend the day with the 2 boys my friend and Mario, we sit drinking small beers outside, after the previous week of not knowing if I was coming or going having two people concerned if I was eating enough felt overwhelming, the kindness of one old friend and a stranger both looking after me was all encompassing.

That night we friend has to go to work, Mario is taking me out with his friends, we are heading onto one of the strips, on the back of scooters … remembering the life and the freedom that I loved so much once upon a time, before the moss begun to grow under my feet.

I don’t remember who kissed who, I don’t remember where it happened or why. We partied until the sun come up, I remember leaving the bike at a club and us walking back to the apartment, I remember laughing constantly and I remember falling asleep entwined with Mario. For the rest of the week I moved upstairs, for the rest of the week he become my 24/7 companion. My friend, far from being annoyed, seemed delighted, the 3 of us spent the days together … eating, talking, laughing. Of a night I visited old friends with Mario in tow, or made new ones as he took me to his haunts. I watched them dance salsa and try to make me join in.

We made love … a lot. We talked just as much, in broken languages, told our stories, laughed about things that seem to transcend cultures and times. By the time it was time for the airspace to reopen I was left wishing that the threatened brother of the volcano would erupt and leave me safe in this moment. But all too soon, the flight was booked and it was time to come home.



5 responses

4 05 2010
Duma Key

So many memorys of Spain mix in my mind as I read your words. I am glad you were able to find solice once more in Spain and that you found a slice of happiness and calm.

4 05 2010

You know Duma … I think you hit it with your comment. I know … and you know … that the sunshine life brings out the feelings of happiness and freedom like no other. I forgot in the last months in Spain with the struggling for money & the invasion Andrew made on my life … I forgot how much fun it could be, how simple times could be amazing, how much I missed the comings and goings, new faces, new places, an adventure by just walking out of your day.

My life will never be calm, I am not made that way – I feel too much, let things cut too deep, I am sensitive to the point of self-destruction … but I am not sure I could be any other way, I am not sure if I want to be any other way. More and more this last week I am left wondering if it is not people like us who live a half life, maybe we are those who live the complete life. We move with the seasons because we have too, we fight storms and chase elusive rainbows because we have no sense of stability, no sense of responsibility or purpose.

We were lost children, and now we become lost adults, but sometimes in being lost we discover places previously unknown.

It felt good to be reminded of the life I once loved … too good in fact … its left me with a longing to return …

11 05 2010
Duma Key

My longing for Spain also beats like the jungle drums in the night, calling me touching me in dreams, I long once more to feel the warmth of the spanish sun, to wander the shores of the Mar Menor, to get lost in the heat of the day and the isolation of undeveloped grounds…….may be one day I will return to the one place, I see as home.
Your life in many ways mirrors my own thoughts, my own feelings….

“I am sensitive to the point of self-destruction …”
Not necassarily a bad thing, reflects your depth of character, the warmth that flows inside you and through your words…It is true we live a half life, half people, children of the night….lost in the shadows….but we also see, see much more than those around, those that knit as sweet little life and paperover the cracks…searching for the happy ever after that will not come…that can never be… we see dimensions in the world, seek more than the visual and open doors to beyond…..often in the shadows…in the point between the day to come and the day just gone…I reflect on the knowledge that somewhere too you stand….and see……touched by the wilderness….
Keep writing I miss your posts……often in the dead of night…I seek your words.

4 05 2010

Finally, a little sunshine in your tortured writings. I am happy for you.

4 05 2010

Mossy, my optimistic friend … how you must want to shout at me sometimes, to turn my face just a little more to the sun and see just what good is there instead of letting myself drown in my own overthinking.

Thank you …

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