Thread 002: When Spain Called Me Home

On first heartbreaks, spirit homes, and dreams that refuse to stay silent…

There's a particular kind of magic that happens when a heart breaks open instead of apart. I learned this in 2014, at twenty-two, when what felt like an ending became the beginning of everything that matters now.

The year before had shattered me in the way that only first heartbreaks can. You know the kind – where you forget how to breathe properly for a while, where every song suddenly seems to be about your story, where you believe, with the delicious dramatics of youth, that you'll never quite be whole again.

In the midst of that heartbreak, a seed of possibility came from the most familiar source imaginable – my childhood best friend, who had been there for every scraped knee, every stolen cookie, every whispered secret of my life. She was heading to Spain for a semester abroad and dreamed of us exploring the southern coast together afterward, maybe even venturing into Portugal and Italy. But wrapped in my grief, I couldn't imagine finding joy anywhere. Despite being raised by two w…