The place where I met my Spanish sister in 1990, and her mamá, her brother, her cousins, her aunts and uncles, her husband, and her two sons as the years have passed.
The place where my soul finds nourishment, joy, and rest.
The place where every meal is a celebration, every walk an adventure, every conversation an epiphany.
The place where I have met friends who became spiritual companions and then lovers of my soul.
The place that fills me to overflowing when I am there and sustains me via memories, photos, and prayers when I am here.
Alice Walker described it perfectly in The Temple of My Familiar when she wrote -
It's like how you love a certain place.
You just do, that's all.
And, if you're lucky, while you're on this earth,
you get to visit it.
And the place knows about your love, you feel.
I have been enormously blessed to visit this place.
This sacred place.
More times than I can count.
And my place knows of my love.
I am certain of it.
I dream of going back to Spain, of going home.
I remember. I rejoice. I give thanks.
De lo poco de vida que me resta
diera con gusto los mejores años
por saber lo que a otros
de mí has hablado.
Y esta vida mortal y de la eterna
lo que me toque, si me toca algo,
por saber lo que a solas
de mí has pensado.
Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer.