Finding Joy Flatfooted and Flustered

COLLISION 00006

I was in a weird spot when I traveled to Spain a few months after being laid off.  I was struggling with the guilt of being away and spending money, confronting the loss of my “corporate” identity and releasing stress and expectation that no longer served me.  I should have felt lighter and free.  But I felt weighted down, even more tired and stuck.

Toledo, however, was too special a place to let career transition anxiety overshadow its exploration and discovery.  I permitted myself to get lost among its maze of corridors before arriving early to the day’s much anticipated main event, lunch at Taberna Botero.

The first to arrive that day, I was shown to a table upstairs in a bold and brightly colored dining room.  An abundance of textures and art set a fun, celebratory mood. My spirits started to lift.  Locals slowly started to fill the space and the energy in the room built in a contagious and palpable momentum.

Just as my first glass of red and the Black Cod Fritters arrived, a young family was seated to my left.  They were three total: mother, father and a young boy maybe three years old.  I’ll admit I bristled, selfishly questioning how their arrival would affect the carefree flow I’d finally found myself swimming in.  

But those reservations were dismissed almost immediately.  This young boy was adorable – long eyelashes, big tenderhearted eyes and an irresistible smile.  If he wasn’t part of the salve I’d been looking for, then I don’t know what was.

He was a bit of a flirt! It wasn’t long before we were exchanging glances between the tables.  I smiled, offered, “hola” and waved. He sheepishly did the same.  I took a chance, pulling out some rusty Spanish. “Me llamo Amanda. ¿Cómo te llamas?”  He shrank low and embarrassed in his chair.  After some encouragement from his parents, he said with just as much shyness and charm, “Me llamo Fabio.”

I didn’t want to risk getting him in trouble so I tried to reposition us back into our own little worlds.  But it wasn’t long before Fabio came to stand just next to me, looking up at me with those big, quizzical eyes.  He fired off a string of questions and stories, one after the other.  Sadly, none were a match for my four years of high school Spanish.  All I could do was smile and say, bueno, bueno.  He had me flatfooted and flustered in the absolute best way.

And there it was.

Sometimes all we need to make each other laugh and smile is a single word.   I watched Fabio and his family leave, feeling lighter than I had in weeks.

Then he did something I’ll never forget. He turned around, looked me right in the eyes and waved “bueno!” just before disappearing down the stairs and out of view.

Bueno, I thought.  Fabio had it right.

Everything will be just bueno.