Scent of the Sun

If you don’t think that sunshine has a smell

then you’ve never been to Spain.

In Aranda de Duero, el centro de la norte

where the rain can fall mainly on the plains for seven straight days

and then pack up its puddles overnight and leave,

making room for the bright, warm scent of el sol to come in and remind you of all your favorite perfect-weather summer days.

Sipping wine on the terrace.

Strolling the cobblestone streets.

Watching the trees sway in the soft breeze.

The recollections roll in with the first whiff of sunshine.

If you don’t believe that grape vines can have soul

then you’ve never been to Spain.

In Aranda de Duero, the city of wines

where the bodegas in the town’s catacombs

gave life to the city.

Where uvas are so much more than a fruit on a stem,

a seed in the ground.

Where uvas are life and sustenance and connection.

Person to person, generation to generation, Mother Earth to child of the land.

Their colorful history grows in the vines,

blooming more beautifully with every harvest.

And if you think that hospitality doesn’t have a birthplace

then you’ve never been to Spain.

Where the people wish you a good day

and mean it.

Where near strangers invite you into their homes

to offer you all their best of everything.

Where the feelings of belonging and homesickness live together,

intertwined in a way that makes your heart feel more full than achy.

Where it doesn’t matter that you have nothing to give in return.

Because the satisfaction is in the sharing of things,

and the joy is in the sharing of each other.