The Other Lucy

March 16, 2018. One New Message. My mobile activated with an audible alert.

I unlocked the phone to investigate an unfamiliar request on Facebook Messenger from a person named Lucy M-D. Hmmm, suspicious. It could be a scam, trying to mimic my name so that I will open some link to release a mycelium virus. I checked out the profile and the picture displayed Miss Piggy and Kermit. There were no personal details about this person. Suspect, for sure. Everything seemed sketchy, and yet I was still curious. I opened the message with great trepidation.

Morning Lucy! I’m going to offer you a park-sit if you’re interested. And who better than a fellow Lucy (happy face emoji).

That is the summed up version of the 4 messages this person sent, which described feelings of a new expat to Barcelona and the commonality of dog ownership. Immediately, I felt akin. I felt relief. I could actually converse with someone. I accepted the messages and wrote back.

Lucy! I would love to meet you. It’s as if you are reading my mind as things have been difficult for me in the adjustment. I don’t have any network here and only have my husband, daughter, and dog. I’d love to park sit or walk! I am open to all the time so whenever or wherever works best for you – you name it and I’ll be there! Thank you for your kindness (red heart emoji).

At that exact moment, I was less than 4 weeks in Barcelona. I was feeling lonely, frustrated with the languages and government processes (eye roll emoji), and quite sure that our adventure to live abroad was a disastrous mistake. I had told my husband that we should return back to the US. The uncertainty and pressure to locate a school, to search for a permanent flat, to complete our visas, to make friends, to start all over again in languages I could not understand = TOO MUCH.  My chest burned from anxiety, my mind went in circles, and my soul missed my friends and family. As a suburban bred girl, I could not sleep with all the city noises. I was going “crazy”. My husband and daughter were worried for me as I was clearly not coping. So, when this offer to park-sit appeared, my family was pushing me out the door to make a friend. I made a plan that afternoon to meet with The Other Lucy.

Lucy turned out to be a Londoner Lady. She had this dreamy posh accent, dropped the F and C words like common adjectives, made me laugh uncontrollably, and put me in complete ease within seconds of meeting her. Come to find out, earlier, Lucy had witnessed me with my dog at a pipican, while she was playing fetch with her dog. She heard me speaking English and recognized me from a post on a local dog group. Lucy did a little digging on FB, found me, and reached out.

The park-sit turned into a walk, then morphed into coffee at a local café; a supposed hour turned into four. We could not stop chatting. It was instant friendship, a connection. Lucy gave me insight, answers, and support. We made plans to walk often, go shopping, have wine, and, eventually, have Easter dinner at her flat with our families. I was renewed and hopeful. I was happy and less anxious. I had made a friend! And it turned around my whole outlook on our move to Spain. I decided that we should stay and buckled down on the task list. I had someone other than my family to vent, to share, to talk, to laugh, to relate. Three and half years later, we remain the best of friends, through even tougher times than just relocating.

To this day, my family says The Other Lucy is the angel that appeared to save our lives here in Barcelona (4 red heart emojis). Esta es la verdad!