Making love with a park
One day when I got off at the subway station and started crying
That time I was sure it'd be the last time I visit Barcelona. The very last time, I told myself. It was such a stupid idea, did I really believe that I'd end up living my dream life here, I asked myself. Did I really think I would be one of those people who would settle in Barcelona, run the marathon and join the local padel club? Stupid, stupid girl. It's not for you, it's for them. So, I thought, I'd give myself one last gift - a week in Barcelona - and I won't go back there again, at least not for a couple years.
I remember getting off at the subway station, which became a sacred place for me during these two years of coming and going. I always booked a room at this place, my lover lived nearby, the beach was a 5 minute walk away. As I stepped out of the subway and stood in this park, tears started to gather in my eyes. I saw everything all at once. I saw me and my good friend sitting on a bench at midnight, eating cookies, smoking, me calling her a machito. I saw myself anxiously waiting for my lover, trying to guess which way he would drive off on his bike. And then he appears and gives me a big hug like old friends do. I saw myself deciding to eat my 5 euro salad on a bench using a plastic fork. I saw myself calling my mom and trying not to cry into the phone because I don't want to leave this place and I only have five days left. All these shadows of mine gathered there at one time, and I watched them all disappear.
I realized later that what hurt me the most was that all my shadows were still hoping for a life in that city. And as I stood in that park, that hope was gone, it was gone. I knew that my real life would not take place in that park. Thousands of other lives from all over the world, hundreds of beautiful stories of love and friendship would take place in that park, but not mine.