Sigh

I posted a while back about learning how to breathe in Sevilla. While I am fully aware that breathing is something I have done a lot of since I was born, I know that when you breathe the air in Sevilla, your muscles relax and your head doesn't hurt. 

Since finals ended and I definitely passed all of them (!), I am finding myself sighing. A sigh is a pharyngeal fricative, 'a deep and especially audible, single exhalation of air out of the mouth or nose, that humans use to communicate emotion,' according to the commoner's bibleguide to the world, Wikipedia.

I came home from my last exam and my host brother asked me, "Que tal?" an equivalent of "How are you?" And my response was a big sigh. Of relief. No more studying! Vacationtime!

As I heaved my suitcase off of the seven foot armoire, I sighed. Heavy, huge suitcase+ short/weak me = potentially dangerous situation. I survived, so I sighed once the suitcase made it's way down.

I then looked around my room and sighed because I like it, and I don't want to leave it. Sigh of comfort and a dash of melancholy.

Next, I had to open my closet. This new sigh was more of a horrendous groan - how did I accumulate so much clothing!? How will it all fit in my suitcase?

An hour later, everything packed in one bag, as if Mary Poppins  magically possessed me, I sighed an "Oh! That wasn't bad at all!" sigh.

As I took a bite of my dinner, a usual white fish, I found the taste particularly delightful. A buttery, garlicy flavor with tomato. I sighed of oral fixation and gastronomic wonder. 

Then, I went out and sighed at how beautiful Sevilla looks at night. And then I saw two shooting stars, and I gasped, which is like a cousin of a sigh.

In the taxi back, I sighed of a strange mix of content and distress. No more wine and hugs by the moonlit river, under the palm trees? 

I also sighed because I was exhausted. As I am now, so I am yawning while I write this. Sevilla, you've worn me down and out, but I'm still floating on cloud nine.

Thank goodness for siesta.