On the eve of things

Imagine this:
You wake up early on Saturday morning, much earlier than you are used to and suddenly, overnight, the weather has dropped, the streets and shop windows are decorated with extravegant christmas objects and you are miles and miles from home. Thousands. You stretch your tight limbs and decide to attack Diagonal street on a good smooth run. You step outside and realize that it has rained the night before, one of those sneaky rains that doesn't stir your dreams, that simply lowers the tempature and cleans the dried leaves off of the street.

You start a slow jog, enjoying the early smell of a winter morning. You reach a park at the end of the long path, after running half an hour straight, and are in awe of the beauty of this quiet moment. Wooden steps lead you up to a park filled with roses everywhere, the benches, beautiful rose colored wood, wet in the soft sun, invite you to sit and catch your breath. The golden leaves fall and crackle all around you and suddenly you feel so alone. There is absolutely no one around, except for the old men at a distance playing bocci ball, laughing, momentarily breaking the silence and all you want to do is be home...home home, because it is Christmas, suddenly, overnight it is christmas and you want to be next to those you love and depend on so much. Eventhough, you have gotten accoustomed to this new life of yours, to the wonderful people around you, to the time, the food, the music, the weather, the streets, you need home more than ever.

Later that evening, your friend who has been there through all the good and bad, calls you and you set up a time to meet in the center and look at the Fira de Sant LLucia, an incredible artisan's display of christmas supplies. Evergreen, bright white lights, santa clauses and crapping statues decorate the streets and stands. For the first time since you've been here, the streets are filled with people from here and not tourists. Family and friends gather in cafes drinking hot chocolates and eating churros, children squeel at the toys and shops, adults try on hand puppets, excusing their childish actions, explaining that it is for their kid, nephew, niece, whomever, but knowing they secretly want one too...you want one.

You walk through narrow streets, old, centuries old that really add that christmas feeling. But as you say goodbye to your friend and tears well up in your eyes, you know that something essential is missing that no hand puppet, tionet (a crapping log...catalanes are infactuated with crap and christmas...and i mean crap literally), or perfectly thick hot chocolate can replace, the friends and family you have at home. Christmas isn't Christmas without them. And so you start packing up your bags and counting the days to go home, leaving all of this romanticism behind for awhile, and going to a place you know so well, to the arms of people who know just how to hold you and know how to make you laugh loud and strong. On the eve of all this holiday cheer, there is nothing you want more from papa noel than to be home for a few weeks.