My last day in Barcelona.
Also St. Jordi’s Day, the equivalent to US’ Valentine’s Day. Stands are set up all over the city selling roses and books. I wish James were here.
Packing last night was a little bit of a struggle. Mentally because I was trying to fit everything I had brought, everything I had bought for myself and as souvenirs in the same bags I came with. Emotionally because I was feeling the feels. It’s definitely bittersweet.
I went on my last run in Barcelona and kinda went a longer more roundabout way hitting up the port and Rambla. There were people everywhere, and it was super touristy. Kinda not my thing. Felt a little bit more in place leaving the center of the city. It probably didn’t help that I was trying to run while everyone’s just chilling, leisurely taking in the sights, as they should.
Anyway. On my run, I realized, I’m not sad. This has been one of the best things that has happened in my life. When I leave, it keeps going. Through everything I’ve experienced here, the book I finally finished (The Fifth Mountain by Paulo Coelho), and the crazy goodness and closeness of my God, I feel like all this, whatever this is, keeps going. Or at least, I get to choose that it does. And it shall.
Here’s to life.
With love from Barcelona.