(I did some prompt writing the other night with my writing group, and this is what bubbled up for “the most beautiful thing I’ve seen….”)

It was June 1996. I was in a car with my Spanish host family, driving home from an afternoon spent at their beach house. We barbequed, drank wine, and enjoyed ice cream and cake for their grandson’s birthday. I settled in the backseat–warm, content, and a little buzzed.

We drove through the countryside, and I gazed out the window. It was the most beautiful sky I had ever seen. Soft. Golden. The haze softened the distant western mountains. The almond and olive trees appeared silver in the gold light.

I sat in the backseat of my host family’s Opel; we would be back in the city within a half hour. I was meeting my boyfriend and our friends for a night out. I gazed at that sky, enveloped by awe and wonder. I was 21 years old, and life would never be any better. I sat in a tiny car, driving through this golden sky, wanting to hold on to that moment–that sky and its promise–forever.

In a few weeks, I would be leaving the island that I had called home for nearly a year. We drove closer to the city, closer to the tall mountains. The sky shifted from gold to gray twilight. That beautiful moment, like my year in Spain, started to fade.

This entry was posted in Life and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s