Scaffolding

The building across from my balcony was shrouded in a ghastly green covering for 6 months. It had been up since I moved into my apartment. Tiers of rusted scaffolding stood behind it.

The clanging and scraping of workers toiling away in the early morning hours became a regular occurrence. One afternoon I heard snoring from my living room. I went out onto my balcony and looked around. A man on the street looked up into the scaffolding and said, “Oye, se despierta.” And the grating snoring ceased amid the green screen.

The other day the scaffolding came down. It revealed beyond it a lush pink building, white outlined balconies and a soft mint colour across the doors. Aside from finding the wonderful colours, I saw no difference. Something changed with the roof I imagine.

My time in Madrid is coming to an end. Tomorrow I will pay for my last month of my youth transport card. It costs 20 euros a month for unlimited access, 26 and under. Why is 26 considered youth?

Scientific research on brain development indicates that your frontal cortex finishes developing in your mid 20s. In other words, your decision making ought to be improved.

I’d like to think I’ve learned a lot in the year I’ve spent abroad. I turned 25 this past June. My frontal cortex, like the building across the street, has been transformed in some way unwitnessed to my eye. The green screen dropped and folded, the scaffolding disassembled and tossed aside. The construction complete, the colours beneath bask in the glory of a long summer sun.

I return to the States in a month. I return to my best friends and my parents. To acquaintances at inevitable parties. I return to finding a job. Finding an apartment. To working on passion projects I feel more determined to complete. Me and my frontal cortex. Construction is nearing completion and I’ve got my eyes toward the next chapter.