When The Light Starts To Flicker

This past week, I moved back to school in Dallas.

Change never gets more comfortable, does it? Especially when you carry the gift—and curse—of truly inhabiting every place you go. Each environment leaves its mark, pulling you into new understandings of how to collect the love you've left scattered in life's corners.

Creating Stability Through Expansion

The phrase that wove all my transition chaos into perfect sense was this: "create stability through expansion"—a comment from my college dance professor that landed with uncanny timing.

In ballet, a dancer must balance and control while simultaneously creating ease and connection for the audience. Isn't that the same challenge life gives us? Learning to be your own light source while reflecting it for others.

Returning to school, my question became: how do I hold onto the freest version of myself I unlocked abroad and bring her into this next chapter while returning to structure?

The answer revealed itself in the most beautiful way.

The Magic of His Visit

Mr. International came to America for his first time ever. For fifteen days, he saw California and Texas, and in his presence, everything felt light and expansive. I discovered just how natural a long distance relationship can be when someone's presence is profound enough to dissolve time. I got to return to Dallas not only with the spirit of Barcelona but with the embodiment of it.

He came with just months of English immersion, yet he spoke the universal language of connection to everyone in my life.

Here came expansion, illuminating itself in the face of stability. As if by design, the family friends who first housed me when I "accidentally" arrived in Barcelona were in town that same week, dropping off their daughter—my Barcelona little sister—who had been redirected to college in Texas. We even shared an ice cream date in Dallas with the dear friend I first met crossing a Barcelona street—the very friend who led me to the bar where I met Mr. International.

The serendipity continued. Classmates from my Barcelona program keep resurfacing in Dallas, some even as neighbors. My first weekend back culminated in two parallel departures: Mr. International to the airport—returning to Spain—and me to Barcelona once again—this time through Barcelona Wine Bar in Dallas. Surrounded by my five core girlfriends from abroad, who I now get to keep at university, we expanded into the night with the same harmony we had built overseas.

Together, we saw Dallas with fresh eyes and felt the magic of inhabiting two places at once.

The Perfect Paradox

So, I had to say "see you later" to Mr. International again. This time it's double the wait—our longest stretch yet—from now until November. But what also feels doubled is his presence in my heart. I may have watched his light fade from view but I still feel its warmth radiating in my chest.

Here's the paradox: his absence creates more proof of his presence. The distance sharpens the clarity of what we are building. If life brought us together in Barcelona, then conspired again to reunite us in America, and has already written Brazil into our November, why would I doubt her designs?

Life is too intelligent to question. She always knows what she's doing, capable of grounding us and setting us free.

Mastering the Art of Waiting

In The Alchemist, Fatima lets her lover Santiago go in pursuit of purpose by reminding him that if she is truly part of his dream, he will return. That kind of trust is what I carry—not a fear of losing him, but a knowing that if the universe conspired to help us find each other once, she will do it again. And again.

So the question isn't can we do this?—that's already answered. The real question is can we enjoy this?

I want to master the art of enjoyment in waiting. To trust so fully in life and in love that time stitches itself together. To be the steady flame that doesn't dim with distance, trusting that love creates its own illumination. To collect, with each day apart, reminders that by working toward myself, I am also working toward him. That by walking toward my dreams, my pursuit of purpose, I am walking toward us.

Fifteen days on, sixty days off—it means nothing when memories keep creating themselves, whether his arm is around me or his laugh is spilling through a speaker (heart clutch).

The Gift of Trust

So yes, I can enjoy this. I can loosen the reins and let life drive me toward wherever love is rich and abundant. I can let her continue to bring every corner of the earth to me no matter where I am, and trust her when she gives me someone special to miss—especially when she gives me an unclear path I need to light with love.

This is the paradox and the gift: stability through expansion, expansion through stability. The more I stretch, the steadier I become. The more I let him go, the closer I feel.

And so if the light flickers—whether it steadies or fades—I trust the thread between us will guide me. Even if he temporarily can't hold my hand when I'm scared in the dark.