What This Means.

Suddenly, I find myself in a pub in Barcelona, the walls brightly lit, the tables filled with laughter and companionship. In fact, I am sitting next to a British woman in her forties whose name is Joy, who has had her birthday today and celebrated it by coming to Barcelona and getting a tattoo. Her husband next to her, telling me about their 30th-wedding anniversary coming up, how they have three daughters, how I need to understand the importance of this gift I have been given. Across the bar, a Dutch bartender keeps the misshapen glasses full, his shoulder-length blonde hair falling across his face. It turns out, this is a Dutch holiday, and we're in a Dutch bar, filled with people celebrating. Football is on the screen behind the bar -- Real Madrid versus another team, but no one is paying attention, too busy talking and laughing and flirting in Spanish, Dutch, English, German... it is all a mix of languages, the sounds flowing through the air until they are all mixed into one language, the language of humanity, the one that we all understand. Even if we may not understand each other's words, laughter is universal.

I have two pieces of advice for you, the man says, leaning over to me and placing his hand on my shoulder. His hair is greying slightly at the temples, and his eyes are a little red, but his hand is quite steady. Keep your words clean, he says, because one day you may have to eat them. He then pauses for a moment, looking right at me for this next part, as if to emphasize the importance of his words. And, most importantly, he says, voice serious, do what makes you happy. Don't waste your life with bollocks. I don't care if my daughters turn out to be hippies, or anything else, he says. I just want them to be happy. So, make yourself happy.

Behind me, the bar continues to fill, the night continues to swell, the people of Barcelona coming out from under the rocks, it seems, to fill the streets with merriment. The world out there is still turning, but in this moment, I am floored.


I am home in two weeks exactly.
I am not sure what to feel.