Ser a Jóven

Eyes; pure and radiant. Heart; open and fearless. Eyes and heart both selfishly unaware of anything else--fellow travelers in the airport, the approaching 20-hour day of travel, the 23 lb. carry-on bag just in case bad luck struck. But, even so, it could not adversely overwhelm the sensation of unequivocal anticipation; "the best is yet to come." Seated and glowing in the most mundane of places, a crowded and cold cafeteria, with tables as sparse as a refreshing breeze in Sevilla, she radiated a foreign glow.

"May I sit here?"

Attention drawn from without.

"Of course. Please"

Resume. Momentary mental lapse in the preceding train of thought.

"If you want to use the wi-fi, I just got the password..."

(pause.)

"Would you like it?"

She was equally as preoccupied with something else.

"Oh. Yes! Why, thank you."

"I don't know if it'll work. They just installed the system last week."

"Only last week!?"

"I know, right?"

From one acquaintance to another, the mundane trade symbolized the renegotiation of a seemingly casual exchange.

"Are you going there?" (re: the book entitled Andalusia)

"Oh. Yes. I'm moving there." (Had her mother been there it would have been overly specified as to explain each detail in full as to the position, the reasoning, and the formal duration. Out of poor habit of purposefully withholding information from her mother, on the one hand, and proud of this new definition of her life, on the other, she elaborated the facts)

"Oh my. What for?"

"I'm teaching English there for 9 months."

"Oh wow. My son did that. And then lived in France for a year. Then, joined the Peace Corps. in Tanzania to teach the civilians how to use computers."

"Ambitious." Accompanied by a sincere smile.

"Yeah. It's really hard...having him be so far away all the time. But, truth is, it's a great excuse for my husband and I to travel when we visit him."

So, is this what it's like for most people? Undying support of your endeavors by parents who live their own lives separate from your own...Hopping from cloud to cloud without questioning the probability of the fall because it is the journey through the present, rather than being consumed with the future...

"You've been to Tanzinia?!"

"Oh yeah. We went for a month. And we will probably go back. His girlfriend's family wants her to return, and I think they blame *_____* for it. Even though it was her idea!" Warm smile-- a vocal hug of safety and love.

"You must be so proud! That's very impressive. The Peace Corps is a very rigorous road to acceptance and a serious commitment to make..."

Silence. A silence of mental weighing of possible responses, appropriate responses, and what this young girl meant by her claim.

"Mmm. I mean it is a very developed program. You are given 3 months of language training, you live with other Americans, and you are placed in a developed community that retains, more or less, American culture."

"Yeah. I never thought about it that way."

"But... you... you are brave. Travelling to a new place by yourself? Not knowing the language...And you're only 22?"

Bashful nod.

"No! Really? This is going to be great for you. This is going to just be a great experience."

From there, what was supposed to be a three hour wait for my trip to begin vanished. My trip had begun...time turned and I learned more and more about my new comrade--a 60-ish nurse for a research doctor at UCLA, studying dementia for the last 20 years. Two sons--one of whom had just proposed. She had done something similar when she was my age, though, under different circumstances. Her garrulousness caught me off guard because she had presented such a diplomatic front at first. Yet, each piece of her story that she presented fit perfectly into the next--she had articulated a conversation puzzle; placing all the stories into a coherent procession, and using only enough details to straighten the edges of those pieces/stories.

"I went to Israel with my friend from nursing school. We got there and stayed with her aunt and uncle, got a job, and went exploring in our free time. One night, we went out with her cousin and his friend, and that was it. I had been caught."

Her husband and her got married in Israel after 8 months with only each of their respective parents present at a legal ceremony. He was in school and she was working--and what did it matter? This Jewish American girl had had apprehension about the trip until she met her future husband--the first puzzle piece to be cultivated, but the last to be placed in the story. It was the eye of her tangential web of life. She finally convinced him to move to America, where he was accepted into the engineering department at UCLA and she was accepted into the Master's program for nursing. They would rotate schedules--each quarter one would take less of a class load and work more to balance their means of living. One son was born, and, then, a year later, another son was born. And, so the web grew. But, I was not initially invited to look her in the eye. The trust and immediately relevant details of her life were explained first, before I could look into her being, or, rather, have the moment that had defined the succeeding moments to come be unveiled unto me.

"I loved that."

There's that silence again...

"Everyone keeps telling me not to fall in love while I'm away...'You better come back!'"

Silence + face = disapproval. But, it is a slow mental evolution before I get her resolution.

"You can't help it. And you don't know what's going to happen."

You never know what's going to happen. I was privileged to be reminded my friend that this trip is the definition of the unknown. Everyone has come for a different reason and from a different place. Some utilize the unknown as an excuse to do as the "Spaniards do," others want to practice their teaching before beginning in the states, and others are marked by the naiveté required to fully live in the unknown and prosper. I'm working on my role within these boundaries. I'm currently in a time capsule where not enough has occurred to represent the experience as a whole, and all that has occurred has happened under the least normal of circumstances to fully establish a baseline of understanding. So, I'm wending--it's not a pause, it's a path that leads to purpose. As I walk through foreign terrain, my footsteps inform my present of my past. It is a abstract path along an undefined plane. So, if that's what you think of when you think of "waiting," then I am "waiting," whether it is for me catch up with myself, or until I reach the next fork in the road and all it entails.