Life is a series of beginnings and endings

September 6, 2020

Gran Tarajal, Fuerteventura, Spain

7:30am 

Standing on my terrace I look out over the rooftops of the town I’ve called home. My eyes stop to rest their gaze on the distant horizon stretching across the ocean; it’s weird to think Africa is a mere 62 miles from my doorstep. The early morning air is cool; it cleanses me. The sun begins its matinal rise over Little Camel Mountain, and the sky is proudly parading its morning flag of colors—cotton candy pink— the color palate of the day. I will miss cloud gazing and being witness to the unfolding morning—warm cup of tea in hand, a light wrap gentle across my shoulders.

As I ponder the horizon, I gently shake my head.  Memories of the last two years jump over the screen of my mind’s eye—I recall my first impression of Fuerteventura. It was after a two-hour ferry ride from the lush, green island of Gran Canaria, that I spotted a hint of land. An incredible excitement welled up in me as the door to my new beginning was about to swing wide open. I felt dramatically like some sailor who had been lost at sea, ravenous for terra firma, finally reaching a destination. However, the excitement, the thrill abruptly faded as we neared the docks.

— What lay before my eyes was a Martian-scape– a barren, desolate, brown bleakness. I admit, my heart sunk…

Well, two years have passed since that first impression and I am pleased to say those sentiments of empty bleakness have evolved.  I realize now that beauty unveils itself to those patient enough to want to see it. This island is a rare beauty, an ancient goddess of endless wisdom and treasures. I will miss her.

Somehow my last day in Fuerteventura has arrived— My plane departs for Madrid at 13:25 –a new town, new people, a new beginning –again.  

8:15am

Face mask—-(ahhh, when will this Covid mess end?!)— bikini, beach towel, flip flops, bag of previously collected shells and sea glass—I’m ready. I have never actually timed it, but if it takes me a full three minutes to get from my third story flat to the lapping of gentle waves on my feet at the seashore I would be surprised. 

It’s early, no one is really out yet, its Sunday, in Spain, the shops won’t open today—plus …it’s a beach town!

I pass the quiet street where my Venezuelan friend, Milagro, lives, our friendship has been a life saver for both of us, I am already missing her. To the left, I can hear the Evangelical church warming up its karaoke machine and electric guitar— morning service will soon begin. 

Shops and apartments give way to the walkway along the beach, Ahhh, the Avenida! The heart and soul of this town! Later in the day it will be bustling with the energies of the delightful squeals of children. As the kids play in the sand their parents will be drinking a cool beverage on the shaded terrace of one of the many restaurants along the strip. Young and old will be having another futból scrimmage while the Dominicans play baseball, their sport of choice.

I can picture young boys sparing each other down to the sand in an amateur match of La Lucha Canaria—- a wrestling style typical of the Canary Islands, and there will be runners and walkers and cyclists. Kids on hover boards, rollerblades, scooters and colorful plastic tricycles—-Big Wheels! Ha! that reminds me of being a kid in the 70’s!—-But all that activity won’t get going until later today, and I will have already gone. 

The Avenida is THE place to be in the town of Gran Tarajal. Feeling social?— hit the Avenida. Feeling sporty? — hit the Avenida. Feeling lonely? — yep, you got it, hit the Avenida!

But the mornings are for the mayores, the seniors, and those who enjoy the gentle, quite times, like myself. I think I see my new friend Lucky off in the distance, jogging alone along the shore. He’s a young, handsome man, in his late 20’s, a Dominican transplant so desperately looking for work, but Covid has brought everything to a halt on this island. His next hope, the US—he wants me to teach him English, but I only met him, there isn’t enough time. 

I spied the regular group of older ladies starting to leave the water, I waved to Juana, my friend Javi’s mom. As they dried their corpulent figures, I shed my outer layer and proceeded with some trepidation, to the water’s edge. “It’s really not that cold” I told myself, and I took two steps and dove in——ahhhh! It was beautiful!

It’s like becoming liquid. I closed my eyes, floating. Seagulls squealed above. The high-pitched sound of a distant boat tickled at my ear, and the sun gently warmed the air. I was happy. 

I did my laps, my water yoga, and finally it came time to say goodbye to my daily swim. My last daily swim in Fuerteventura.

Back on shore I took out the pouch of sea goodies. I had kept a few treasures from my beach combing mornings but these I was re-patriating, back to the sea.

Just at the water’s edge I plopped down and quickly formed a sea-treasure heart. In the flash of a moment, I snapped a few photos when—swoosh! Away went the colorful glass and the assortment of shells, taken away forever by a blanket of ocean. 

10:25am

It took me longer to say goodbye to the beach than I anticipated. Only one more hour remains. I am torn between taking a shower and having one last cup of tea on the terrace…

I choose the tea, there will be time for a shower at the other side of my goodbye. 

My bags are packed. My apartment cleaned out. My wet bathing suit hangs on the clothesline for the last few precious moments as I sit, warm cup of tea in my had, pondering out over the horizon. Not even thinking about anything—- a few tears well up, then trickle down the round of my cheek, “I will miss this place” I say out loud—- words I never thought I would speak. But, after all, we tend to miss the pieces of our heart when we leave them behind.

11:35am

The buzzer rings. My ride is here.

The beginning and the ending have arrived.