On the Journey Home

The other day, for some reason I can’t seem to place where this happened or who told me this (and I am sorry if that person ends up reading this), but someone told me a story, and this is my version…

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One time, a man was exploring a small pueblo on his journey and as he was walking along the hills of the pueblo, he walked along the cemetery, which was on a slight hill. As he walked up the stairs alongside the pueblo he noticed the graves. There was something peculiar on the graves. The first one read 2 years, how sad he thought. The next one read five years and he read another that only said 3 and a half years. How tragic he thought, something must have happened in this pueblo where many young people died. He continued to walk and was deeply saddened by the loss of so many young lives. When he finally reached the top of the hill he encountered a man from the pueblo. He remarked on the beauty of the small town but then tentatively asked the man, what had occurred there and why so many young lives had been lost.

The old man smiled slightly and said, no, no, it is not that many young people have died here in this pueblo but as a tradition, throughout our lives we take note of when we have felt truly alive and when anyone dies we count the number of seconds, minutes, and hours a person really felt they had been living.

**

Yesterday, as I was sitting at the airport waiting for my flight that had been delayed by two hours (after already leaving a Spain a day later than planned), this story popped into my mind and then as I sat there on the plane writing this post I couldn’t help but think of this story again. I don’t mean to be dramatic and I know that people leave home for many more months than I, but something about these past months has made me really appreciate both the most exciting moments and those dull moments of grey and of seemingly endless winter mountain rain. I am excited to be coming home, to see family and friends all of which (whether that read these posts or not) have been following and supporting me from far away and I will also miss the friends I made. I am not sure of my next move, if that is to stay in New York, go back to Spain in the fall to teach again, or simply try to keep open eyes and be ready for whatever comes next but I can’t thank the people in my life enough for helping me try to live as many moments feeling as alive as possible with them.