A Farewell

The climb up the mountain had been hot, Torremolinos was hazy from the heat and humidity, but I was re-energized by a crisp wind from the sea bringing the spicy smells, warm from the African coast. My friends stopped at the first table that could seat all twelve of us. We didn’t have much time together and we wanted to spend all our time close to each other. It had been two years since we had all been in the same country and it would be five more before we would all gather again. We were an odd band of friends, from eight different countries, and brought together by food and drink for a year and then separated by other responsibilities. I was flushed from our hike and the Sangria. The spiced fruit at the bottom of my glass kissed the last of the wine good-bye, and I was reminded that I would soon be flying back to America. We each volunteered a toast: promising friendship forever and to only shed tears of happiness. We dined on tapas late into the night, eventually the waiters and cooks joined us and brought more wine and food. Tapenades, hummus, dried meats, cheese, and little sardines traveled on our fingers to our mouths wiggling to make the others laugh and forget that morning was coming. I felt the wind pick up and felt the sun on my face. I cried.