I navigate through emotions of the longing for the ease of a simple conversation to realizing that in some ways my life will never be this ‘easy’ again.
Knowing that I would be spending the next 5 months living at the discretion of strangers, speaking another language was intimidating. To be intimidated by the language is a valid and accurate feeling but to assume that I would be spending these months at their discretion could not be further from the reality.
Each morning I wake up to breakfast set out for me on the table; a carafe of coffee, yogurt, dried fruit/nuts, and a plateful of cookies if I desire. Everyday I come home for lunch, as is typical for most here in Spain. We eat a variety of things from soup, salad, fish and eggs. Dinner varies too but usually is light and includes some type of salad.
My laundry is washed and folded, my bedroom is cleaned and always stocked with a fruit plate, my bathroom is cleaned, and my sheets are changed. Everything is done for me.
I try to interfere and let her know that I am more than willing and certainly capable of doing this all myself. She insists though that she is my mother here in Spain and this is what mothers do.
A simple ‘thank you’ is far from adequate.