I'm down to five days left in San Sebastián. Five days to spend with friends, to get in all the hugs and chats and tamales I can fit into my memory and stomach. I honestly never thought about making it here. I've dreamt about the coveted "Returned Peace Corps Volunteer" title and about life after my service, but the last week and the goodbyes were absent from those thoughts. Now that I'm here and staring down my last week, I'm nervous and sad and totally bewildered. This place, this strange and different land that I've been living in for 24 months has become my home and it's nearly impossible for me to imagine life outside of it.
I'm used to the honking of camionetas being my alarm, Saturday nights always providing a tamale and piping hot cup of coffee, holidays meaning firecrackers and late nights. I've learned the way certain neighbors ring my doorbell, I've grown accustomed to the scream of "carrrrllllooootaaaa" from the street meaning that kids want to read books; I am a part of a family, of several families, and the idea of going away and unlearning all of those things is starting to break my heart. I love this place. I love my life. And even though I know it's time to move on, to live close to my blood-family and put down some semblance of roots, I'm having trouble saying goodbye. So I'll say "see you in a year" or "see you at so-and-so's wedding," because that makes it easier.
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