It must be fall.
As a girl from Vegas, 60 degree weather means its time to bust out the sweaters I haven't seen since winter.
It took me a while to find where I stashed all my sweaters because they hid somewhere within the endless cavern of storage under my bed. I dug them out and found a sweater I brought with me to Barcelona last spring.
When you can only bring TWO suitcases full of clothes that have to last you FOUR months, you get to know the clothes you packed extremely well. I wore them over, and over, and over again. I refer to those clothes as my "Barcelona Wardrobe." Each article possesses a special memory.
I grabbed the sweater and put it on. The sweater instantly engulfed me in a strange but familiar scent. My host-madre's detergent mixed with Barcelona's fresh (well, as fresh as a city can be) air filled my nostrils. I suppose I never rewashed some of my clothes when I returned to the states.
I really wanted to shuffle through the rest of my "Barcelona Wardrobe" to see if the scent lingered on other items of clothing as well. Instead, I think I'll leave it a mystery and wait to be thoroughly surprised if the scent offers its sweet reminder of the best four months of my life once again.
To add to my trip down Barcelona lane, I wore my "Barcelona Boots" to class.
These bad boys walked me across Europe. With these boots, I conquered cobble stone in four different countries. After a rough first couple of weeks, my feet became impervious to blisters. I had the callous feet to prove it. Keyword: HAD.
In the boot-less months of summer, my feet became vulnerable once more. These boots and I conquered Europe, but we did not conquer the campus of Mizzou.
For now, I think I'll stick with wearing sandals.