A Saturday in Spring
The air is warming at a decided clip. Butterflies twirl around one another in flirtatious pirouettes. To step under a blossoming tree right now is to step into a buzzing hub of activity. Each time I return to a path there are new patches of wildflowers adorning its edges. Above me, the sky is painted in the bluest of blues, intersected by the reliable green of towering conifers.
On a recent weekend, it felt as though I was going for a walk with my whole community. We’re all drawn outside by the unfurling of Spring. Restrictions have just been extended again, meaning we can’t leave the city of Barcelona. We’re all stuck here together, and we can all feel that. We are making room for one another, sharing spaces, outdoors. We used to take for granted the possibility of spending time outside the walls of our own homes. Now it is our communal balm.
A hammock is slung up between two trees. Three rowdy preschoolers swing happily suspended within its confines. Their parents spread out on the ground beneath, picnicking goods spilling from bags.
A “biker gang” of electric scooters rolls by. They wear oddly aggressive helmets atop their decidedly slow rides. One of them pumps music from a portable speaker.
The Mediterranean stretches unceasingly into the horizon, its blue interrupted only by slices of white sails.
A slack line stretches across a small gorge. Two people dangle, suspended below it. A photographer leans out against his repelling rope, aiming his lens at the action above him. A small crowd gathers to see what they will do.
A tween walks by dressed in full Harry Potter robes. Everyone else in her family sports hiking gear. I wonder about what conversations took place before they left the house. Then I begin to envision a scenario in which no conversations were necessary and they all just walked out the door, each adorned as they saw fit.
At the top of a steep ascent, when the vista comes into view, one hiker turns to his two companions.
“Vale la pena?” Is it worth it?
“Siiiii!” comes the enthusiastic response.
A man stretches from one end of a park bench to the other. His hands are tucked behind his head, elbows splayed. His eyes are closed. There is a taught line of communication between him and the sun.
Barcelona is stumbling into the dawn after a six month hibernation. Blinking in that early morning light, it finds itself in the utterly unique position of being alone with itself. Certainly the tourists will return. And that will be a good thing for many, many people in this city. But for now, there are languid days ahead of us, with space to stretch our toes a bit in the relative quiet of our spaces.
