I left this country for the first time about two years ago and it changed me forever. I'm Catholic, my mom took me to a Catholic elementary school and made me go to mass every Sunday. Though as a kid I never thought of my religion as being very important and that nothing could be more boring than sitting for an hour while listening to an old man talk. I eventually, with age, realized the importance of my faith and this trip to Spain only strengthened that. The original plan was for my mother and I to go together to Spain and for months we both looked forward to it. However, just about a week before that long flight across those vast blue waters my mom got another kidney stone. I believe this may have been her third by this time so she was used to it, but the pain from it being removed was too much. So I as an 8th grader had to go alone to a foreign country very far from home. I wasn't so much afraid of going alone more so saddened that I would be the only one to experience this marvelous country. She drove me to the school to meet up with the rest of my tour group on an early June morning, and I said goodbye.

Ya, that was a pretty long introduction I know. This was a week long trip and I don't really feel like telling the whole story. So let's fast forward to I think it was about 3 days into the trip where I go to the place where this memoir is really about.

At this point in the tour I had already seen some awesome sights. Huge cathedrals and old architecture still standing from I believe Roman times in Barcelona as well as the enormous Barcelona fútbol stadium, so this was a pleasant surprise. It was just a side stop on the way to our next stop. It was yet another church, but none like any I've ever seen. It was a small monastery atop a mountain that looked over the capital of Spain, Madrid. It was the first stop of the day and as the bus climbed the side of the mountain I listened to the same song I had been listening on repeat for the entirety of the trip thus far. When we finally reached the top of the mountain we walked across what was almost like a small bridge and you could see the bright summer sun peak over the horizon. Down below you could see cars driving by and the city of Madrid off in the distant horizon.

After we crossed the bridge we walked into what used to be a small village. Our tour guide told us that people used to stay in the buildings, but now they were just tourist gift shops. I was so dazed by my surroundings I barely caught what the guide was saying. We walked up the next street towards the monastery and the guide said something about a story as to why this place was built, but I barely remember now. We reached the courtyard in front of the monastery and there were statues of saints on either side, looking over the world below. I wanted to stay in the courtyard longer, but the group quickly moved onward. To me this was amazing, I thought I could stay here the entire day. As we approached the monastery you could see carvings of stories from the bible and saints all the way up the walls. Here we split into small groups to being the tour of the inside.

Sadly, groups could only go in one at a time and I had to wait about five minutes before I got my turn. We eventually entered through the tall black doors to meet a large dark room filled with sculptures, paintings, and stained glass windows everywhere. Many people were inside praying and I had the odd urge to join them. However, we continued the tour around into the back of the church, where we saw many different rooms, with each having their own special meaning.

Then we reached the most important part, the reason why this whole place was here. If I remember correctly it was a black sphere that a statute of the baby Jesus was holding. This sphere in the story did some sort of miracle that influenced the people to build this church on the mountain. We each went up one by one and touched it, maybe saying a word or two as a prayer. I said something along the lines of, “for my mom” and moved on. It was here that I was told that mass was going to be held in about 20 minutes. I was elated hoping we could stay for at least some of it. As everyone else walked out bored almost, as it wasn't the first massive church we had been to on the trip. I stayed. I sat down in one of the pews and just took in the moment, then knelt, closed my eyes and sat there, at peace.

I didn't want to leave, but after about ten minutes my group came back to get me so we could leave. This place was like heaven on earth, everything seemed so perfect and peaceful. Our group walked back down the streets from which we came and I slowly poked along far in the back, trying soak up as much of the moment as I could. I crossed back over the tiny bridge and glanced across the horizon, the bright orange sun rising up into the sky, no clouds in sight. I slouched back into my seat, put my headphones back in and began to listen to the same song. I looked out the window to catch my last glimpse of the monastery on the mountain, and told myself I'd be back, one day.