La Chica Sola

I'm gaining a reputation as the girl who does things sola.

I think a lot of people admire my willingness to do things by myself. And normally I also feel that my independence is one of the qualities I value most. It comes with its flip side, however. There are plenty of lonely moments, and I struggle with that quite a bit. I ask myself a lot if it's worth it to leave everyone I love to explore this big world by myself. I have been incredibly fortunate to have friends and families (yes, more than one) who have given their unconditional blessings in all my assorted adventures. Without doubt the question I get asked most is how my parents handle my international wanderings.
The answer is simple: They were the first people who taught me that you have to love with your hands open.
When I cried because I'm represented by a stocking in my family's Christmas picture, it was my mom who reminded me, "But this is who I raised you to be." How humbling it is to realize there are people who love you enough to give you permission to leave them. Seems funny, doesn't it? I only get to be the girl who does things alone thanks to my whole community of people.

Here is where Spanish falls short, however. Sola means both alone and lonely. And I, for one, want to be able to see the difference.

Remember how I got lost when I went to the Alhambra, and my group had to pick me up twenty minutes into the tour? Partway through, we took a snack and bathroom break, and regrouped ten minutes later in the busy area near one of the main entrances. Amid all the hectic crowds and my uncertainty over exactly where we needed to meet (thank you, language barrier), I almost missed my group again and found them just barely in time for the head count. The count came up one short, and my tour guide asked who was missing a friend or family member. One lady immediately piped up, "What about that girl who was here alone?" She'll never know that tiny courtesy is one of the most important memories I have of visiting that world famous landmark.
I was the only person in my tour who was there without someone else, but someone still noticed me and cared enough to make sure I wasn't overlooked. How much more willing would we be to move through the world alone sometimes if we could feel assured that strangers would still have our back?

This idea of myself as someone who does things alone stings at least as often as it's a source of personal pride. Sometimes sola tastes like freedom; other times it's just plain solitude. But I do realize this won't last forever, and that plenty of my life adventures will happen in the company of loved ones. So my hope is that I will remember this 6-month lesson in soledad - in both its senses - when I am back to a place where I have my people around me. That I will remember the true luxury it is to know someone else is looking out for you, and perhaps be someone else's stranger who reminds them we're rarely as alone as we think we are.