In the City of Sand

Last September, I added a winter jacket to my shopping list. I never bought one.

The coldest months are over and I won’t need to buy one until next year. This winter I’ve seen my dentists more times than I’ve seen my friends. Does that make my dentists friends?

They see my face, greet me with a smile and call me by name. Tomorrow is my last scheduled appointment and as happy I am for my teeth getting better, I will miss the people that got them to a cleaner state.

I’m spending this Sunday by myself, arranging poems about broken heart and loneliness. I observe a pattern of titles like Unheld and Unconnected. In a set of around a 100 poems, 6 have one-word titles starting with the negation prefix un.

A single poem about the void of connecting is sad; a whole collection becomes devastating.

I am learning how to be vulnerable outside the confinements of a poem. I am not wholly bothered about being alone and single for so long, because most of my life is in the online world where I do connect with people of common interests. I’m not unhappy, but I do crave love and friendships.

My first summer in Valencia is approaching. It’s been sunny all Winter and I’ve got a beach that I can reach by foot. Can I buy a swimsuit that says “let’s be friends?” Get to know people to lick the sun with. Play beach volley or throw Frisbees.

I go for a walk by this beach nearly every day, and even on the coldest days, people are in the sand, playing. It’s silly because I never was a beach person back in Malta, an island of equal sunshine. I preferred to hang out with friends in their cosy homes or lonesome walks on cliffs were crowds did not gather.

Now I live in a city and crowds are compulsory. Living in a new culture and language, intimidated of approaching people. Got a few months to work on, make myself fluent in Spanish and destroy these barriers until they are grains of sand between my toes.