A child always looks forward to his or her birthday, but as I’ve grown older, I’ve realized how it’s not my birthday that I’m anticipating every November. It’s not a party, or cards or presents, or even the day, it’s the days that follow; it’s the season, it’s coming home, it’s the company, the comfort, the joy. One blessing I will never take for granted is how close my birthday is to Thanksgiving, and even more importantly, to the opening of the Advent season. It reminds me that it’s not about me, nor what I want, what I don’t have, what I ask for, but about what blessings I have and what love I have unremittingly been given. This year was different, because I’m in Spain, and for the first time in my life I celebrated my birthday and Thanksgiving away from close family and friends, not to mention, on another continent. Yet despite how much I was going to miss being home at a time like Thanksgiving, the sentiment had not changed, but rather, had been exceptionally accentuated in a way that I will never forget.
My birthday gift this year did not come in a box; it stepped off a train in Madrid two days before. My parents planned to visit me as soon as they knew I’d be here for my birthday, because they are adamant about sticking to their goal of being with my brothers and I on each of our birthdays until we’re 21. But their visit was more than a gift, because it not only reminded me how important they are in my life, and how fortunate I am to have them, but throughout the weekend I was also reminded of how fortunate I am to be in Spain with such a caring family and such an incredible experience.
Here I’m at home. I wear my slippers and sweatpants and can take a siesta on the couch with the dogs, I’m here for family meals and meet guests when they come to visit. My Spanish parents care for me as they do their own daughters, and from day one I've felt like one of the family. I hang out with the girls, go out with them from time to time, and we have our own inside jokes. They call me their hermanita and whenever someone new asks how long I am staying in Spain, the girls always interject before I can answer and say I’m actually not leaving. I had been anticipating my parents’ arrival not only to see them, but also to show them what I consider to be the most important and influential part of my experience here: my Spanish family.
When at last I greeted my parents and began to show them my new life here, I could hardly contain myself. Being able to indicate each aspect that contributed to my Spanish life just reminded me of how much I really have here, and how much of a home Alcalá has really become over the past three months. Their first evening here, I showed them my academic buildings, the plaza, pointed out cafes we frequently visit, and even brought them to our favorite shop to get dried fruit and nuts. We stopped at the cathedral and walked my daily walk home just as it started to rain, to be welcomed warmly by my Spanish family who was anxiously waiting our arrival with wine and empanadas.
Despite how little my parents spoke Spanish, and how little my host parents spoke English, they were surprisingly good at communicating with each other, and a few times I didn’t even have to translate. Luckily no one was too shy to throw some expression into the mix, because it made communication easier, and of course a lot more amusing. My Spanish parents are incessantly hospitable, and kept encouraging more food onto my parents’ plates, to which they could hardly resist. So many stories and traditions were shared, and I could see the language barrier being dissolved with hardly any effort. My Spanish parents even affirmed to my parents that if they were to ever come back to Spain, they had a home here, and of course my parents offered the same, as many times the girls have mentioned how they want to come to the states someday.
The conversation continued from the table to the sofas, where my parents gifted three of our Christmas ornaments to them. As my mom had me translate, they were “from our tree to [theirs],” each of which held a special significance or memory that I helped communicate, and by the end we were all hugging each other and exchanging tear-filled smiles of thanks. It didn’t take long before the overwhelming gratitude turned to uncontainable joy, and without hesitation, out came the guitars. Before I knew it we were singing songs we all knew, a trend that continued after dinner the two nights that followed. My Spanish parents were joyed at being able to host my birthday dinner, and after a rainy but enjoyable birthday day showing my parents around Madrid, and yet another fantastic meal of which my Spanish family was eager to take part, my Spanish mom made sure to have my mom carry out the birthday cake with her, a moment I will never forget. Even through all my interchanging of conversation between languages, it was in those moments that I couldn’t find words. To see such interactions put everything into place, why I am here, how far I’ve come, and overall, how grateful I should be for each of these blessings. My heart was more content than it had been all semester.
This weekend was my Thanksgiving, and one that I will probably cherish and hold close for the rest of my life. It was the presence, the warmth the spirit, the laughter, the humor, the expression. The time spent together and interacting was not inhibited by the lack of a communal language, nor culture, nor was it discouraged by unfamiliarity. We found unity through one another’s presence and stories, through shared traditions and curiosity; this weekend we were one family.
Nothing will replace my memory of having the family sing a traditional Spanish happy birthday song to me with guitars and words from the heart. Nothing will compare to hearing the laughter of my parents among the laughter of my host parents. Nothing will ever take the place of those nights, those overwhelming feelings of joy and relief, of togetherness and belonging, in a place we never imagined. I will never forget those moments, those conversations that were, while at times half-understood, wholly felt and appreciated. Nothing will ever compare.