Capes vs. Ponchos
Shad – Progress
You don’t know this, or maybe you do more than I know. But every time I try to untangle my ear buds, or spot anyone wearing a poncho I’m back in Spain. I take Communion, sip cafe con leche, overhear bits of Spanish, slip on my bandeez, and there it is again. It’s “Suit and Tie” and “Figure Eight”, and that one Dashboard Confessional song. It’s every time I try to climb into a bunk bed (thankfully, not often), or when I cobble-hobble after a particularly long day. It’s Hans Peter sermons and scheming up twitter posts. It’s a thousand conversations, and a million feelings understood. It’s a month-long list of things that seem more tangible than other memories, more of the earth and sun sort. There really was something to leaving normal clutter behind, wasn’t there?
I miss it. I miss it terribly. And I hate that each time it all comes back, I miss you all the more fiercely.
(Image via here)