Slowly the realization that I would soon be leaving Ciudad Real, forever, washed over me.  Jess left immediately after our return from Malta.  We bussed it back to Madrid from Valencia's airport, stayed the night at Katie's in Toledo and then I went with her to the Barajas the next day.  Tearful and, again, the one being left, I headed back to Katie's where we tried to prepare ourselves for when our time would come to leave the places that had somehow become our homes.

The process of packing up belongings and sorting through the objects that I had amassed was not any easier than the times past.  I have always told myself that I am going to void my life of any frivolous items; I need to be streamlined and able to pack everything I may need in two carry-on sized bags.  The amount of paper that I accumulate never fails to surprise me.  I fully believe that that particular habit is connected to a gene somewhere in my DNA.  I am positive of this especially after seeing the collection of lifetime souvenirs and forgotten items that are piled around my parent's and grandparent's houses.  It was so trying, though, once I started sorting through the various trinkets and boxes that somehow got stacked up around my apartment.  

I have always become sentimental when thinking of the person who sent me a little note who knows how many years ago.  I have millions of birthday, Valentine's Day and Halloween greeting cards from people who I never want to forget.  It has always been in the back of my head that the act of keeping their handwriting will prove that they existed and that they, at one point, saw me worth their time and the cost of a postage stamp.  I have notes that were secretly passed to me when the teachers were looking the other way... the pencil is wearing off and the names are slowly slipping away but I cannot bring myself to throw these people in the garbage.  I used to save every ticket to every concert or museum that I went to and the maps from every town that I visited; I stopped the tickets except for the most awesomely envy inspiring ones and now send my maps to Rafa, the boy that I tutored.  I would rather someone else throw them away than me.

So that is what I occupied myself with the last couple of weeks that I was in Ciudad Real.  My obligations at the university had ended and I was only tutoring... I couldn't bring myself to decide upon a last day to see my precious kids so I kept visiting them, teaching them Boomer Sooner and doing homework with them until the very day that I left.  I think that may have been the hardest part of the whole experience.  Leaving these families that had, against all of their Spanish tendencies, fully brought me into their homes and added me to the family.  

One afternoon I went with Rafa, his parents and Miguel to Almagro to see the city.  Sara's mom is from there, the tiny pueblo only about 18 miles from Ciudad Real.  It was wonderful to see the village from the eyes of people who had grown up going there, who were proud of what it had to offer.  And, much to my surprise, it was full of history and appeal.  We visited the quaint town square which has bragging rights on one of the oldest theater houses in Spain.  It dates back to the time of Shakespeare when the famous Spanish writer Lope de Vega's pieces were performed.  And to make it even more amazing they were acted out by none other than he himself with his actors.  From there, and after a nice refreshing drink under an umbrella in the plaza, we went to tour one of the many paradors of Spain.  Paradors are old buildings, sometimes convents and ancient palaces, that have been restored and modernized but none lack the true Spanish touch.  Walking through the hallways it is easy to see how they lived centuries ago.  The woodwork and stone masonry is impeccable.  I will never forget that afternoon trip with a few of the people that I adore most in the world.

It was a task saying goodbye to the kids that I had spent nearly every week with since my arrival in Spain.  I promised to send them Peeps, Candy Corn and Broadway musicals in English and then I told them I would see them in September.  Turns out I was mistaken on that last bit but I have already sent some marshmallow ghosts and pumpkins across the Atlantic.

xox celia rose