Chocolate Chip Cookies and Toast with Jelly

I've been here about 4 weeks now. It doesn't feel like that long: it feels much shorter and much longer all at once. It has sunk in that this is where I live. I know which buses take me home, how to get to church, how to flag a taxi. I'm not intimidated of having a conversation with Maria anymore. I'm not intimidated by Spanish anymore.
Sam and I have conversations about how delicious warm homemade chocolate chip cookies would be, or how we really just want macaroni and cheese; while realizing that December will come all too quickly and we will have to say goodbye to friends we've made, places that are now our own, and the best Spanish teachers we've ever had. That sentence was a paragraph. My grammar of English, it has escaped me. (That sentence is perfect in Spanish grammar.)
I am already dreading the day when we have to eat our last breakfast of toast and tea with Maria and get to the airport by 7am.
During siesta, I usually read a book (in English). Yesterday it was Through Painted Deserts by Donald Miller. I read about half of it. (Hey, I had an hour and a half). Anyway, as usual, when I stopped reading and returned to Spain from the floor of the Grand Canyon, I heard the TV. I always think, "Woah. That is not in English. What... Oh yeah! I could understand that if I stopped talking to myself." It is a very cool feeling.
One thing I realized, as inspired by my reading, is that you cannot live life thinking you are missing out on something.

We already have eveything we need to be content. We aren't missing anything. I can't rely on buying something new to give some definition to my day or life.