Growing Up

I'm sitting next to my little host cousin, Nacho, as he writes a book report on the story of Peter Pan, the boy who never grew up. He's got the storybook beside him, making out the words one by one and struggling to decide what to write. "I'm bored, I don't like the story of Peter Pan," he complains, and my host uncle tries to convince him of the wonders of the story. "Así volaron y volaron, como cometas al viento," the words ring in my head as he reads them aloud, the beauty of such simple spanish phrases, from a children's book to say the least, catching my mind and my thoughts until I can think of nothing else. I don't want to grow up. Or do I, I can't decide.

They say the story of Peter Pan is a children's story, a fairytale to enjoy when you're young. I've always liked the story, though as a child I disagreed heartily with Peter and his refusal to grow up. It seemed silly to me, for I'd always wanted to be older and more mature, that anyone would want to be a kid forever. The adults always seemed to have more fun, they went out without parents, had freedom and the ability to choose whatever they wanted to do. The world was an open door to them, and I enjoyed peering from inside the fun, safe house in which I passed my time. How I wanted to be older; oh, the joys of being seventeen, eighteen, twenty, thirty. But now that I'm less than a month away from seventeen, Peter Pan's ideas of running away to Never-Never Land grow more and more appeasing.
To go off and start a new life of without responsibility, worry, stress (except those pirates of course haha), and only the thought of the adventures we might have on my mind. All those responsibilities I rarely considered when I thought of growing up are now crashing into my reality. Its a terrifying and exhilarating thought, to grow up. Because unlike Peter Pan, I do have to grow up. I'm going back in a month and six days: this is the end of my adventure here, this wonderful year that has taught me so much. And though I know I'm going back, leaving my Never Never Land, a part of me refuses to grow up. A part of me still smiles when I play a board game with my 5 year old primo, a part of me still fantasizes about being a princess every time I see a castle, a part of me still dreams of being whisked away by Peter Pan in the middle of the night.

And yet, though I might not have met Peter Pan, swum with mermaids, or been chases through the sky by pirates, I've had plenty of my own adventures here. The people I've met and learned to love, the places I've seen and the things I've done, each a memory I will hold onto for the rest of my life. So, though I may have to grow up, I will always remember what it is to be a kid, to have that hope and love for life that so many people seem to lose. I will always be a little kid on the inside, a princess and fairy-loving girl with romantic hopes and dreams. I can grow up all I want, but that will never, ever change.

Love from Marbella,
Shonabell

Home

With just two months left in my exchange and a month's worth of "viajando" behind me, my thoughts on life ar as steady as the Marbella weather: one day sun, one day rain, and the constantly changing winds. As I'm sitting on the beach, chatting with my friend Claudia, the thought of going back to California, leaving these sunny beaches, lack of homework, and other things that I find so much joy in here, fills my stomach with dread. Then, after spending a week with him in Marbella and Barcelona, all I wanted was to follow my dad onto the plane as I stood there, pretending not to cry, and said goodbye. Most of all, I think back to everyone I've met this year; the Spanish, English, Australian, French, Canadian, *United States of* American, South American, Belgian, and even Danish people I've met and become friends with during these past eight months. Because, though I may have met them here, on my exchange, they will not end up disappearing quite as quickly as these last few days of my life here seem to be. Instead, I will carry their friendship with me wherever I go. Their love, words, and voices will be with me throughout the rest of my life. Whether it's my first host parents' calm silence, which taught me to enjoy the quiet routines that so often make up parts of life, or Eugenia's advice to be careful, for the boys here attack blondes, or Vanessa's constant ability to smile even in the toughest situations, or Christian's words of hope and the future when all I can see is the hard path in front of me, or my family's love for me, or Nina's stories of travel and long-lasting friendships, or Rotary's always-giving spirit, everything I've learned this year has made me, and will continue to make me, who I am. They make this world, this big, giant world, seem so much smaller than it once was. I can now look at a map and see, rather than mysterious blobs on a piece of paper, all the people whom I know and care for. And, just as I'm about to leave this home I have here in Spain to another I have in California, I'm beginning to realize that my definition of home is beginning to change. No longer is it just the old ranch house settled in a little corner of Pleasanton, nor the white and blue tiled house on the beach across from the coca-cola can, nor the four-story, flower surrounded house in Nagueles. Instead, I find that my home is this world; that no matter where I am, it is the people I am with that will make me feel safe, loved, and, quite simply, at home.

***just a quick side note, I want to apologize for taking so long to write this blog. The thoughts have been running around my head for so long, I just couldn't find the way to put them into sentences that would make sense to all of you reading. So, thank you for your patience; I'm having a fantastic time here. I should be posting a few more blogs about my last month, accompanied by photos of course :).

As always,
Love from Marbella,
Shonabell