Just as she did with everything, Amala shared her every thought and feeling with Paulina, who was not at all offended or upset to hear that Amala would like to work toward returning home as opposed to continuing to travel with her aunt. “I will miss your company greatly,” Paulina said, “but we have created some wonderful memories together, and we will always be close in our hearts. And perhaps we will have more escapades in the future.” Paulina squeezed Amala’s hand. “In truth, I’m proud of you for finding what your own heart wants and having the courage to declare it. You will be happier for it.”

“Yes,” Amala said, “I believe I will.”

* * * *

Amala had been away from home for nearly two years when she felt the urge to reread all the journals she had written during the course of this season of her life. She began at the point where she had first started recording her feelings, with Paulina’s encouragement, and she filled her spare time with reading her own story as opposed to what she might normally read—a novel or a book about science, or theology, or faraway lands, or great people. She had always craved learning and enjoyed the way books offered that in so many forms. But now she was learning something about herself.

After reading all she’d written up to the present, Amala wrote about how she’d been reading the journals, and she summarized what she’d come to learn about herself as she had evolved through these experiences. Paulina had taught her so very much, both through her example and her sound wisdom and insight. And she had offered Amala opportunities of diversity and perspective that Amala never could have imagined possible. But it was the change inside of Amala as a result of all these things that mattered most to her. She had discussed these feelings and observations a little here and there with Paulina through the course of her reading, but now that she’d finished the project, they sat together on an upstairs balcony watching the Spanish sun setting in the distance while the now-familiar sounds of a nearby outdoor café emitted a pleasant background of people talking and laughing and dishes clanking as an indication of these people enjoying good food. There was also—as always—the pleasant sound of music gracefully intermixed into all the other noises; the café employed a well-skilled violinist who always worked during the evenings, and other than his short breaks, the sound of his music was nearly constant.