Long Way Home

In the time it took my ancestors to travel by ship from Italy to America, I flew there, visited places I had only heard of, met relatives I had never seen and flew back.  As with most trips, you are excited about going and eventually happy to return home. For me, this trip was no exception.  Plans had been made months in advance, allowing for the anticipation to build.  Tickets were purchased, applying another layer of reality to what seemed like a dream.  We arrived and our passports were stamped, and thus began our adventure.

While I am happy to be home and with my family members in Bellingham, I feel the heart strings of Italy pulling already.  I will miss the meals we took together.  I rise earlier than the rest of the household, so my breakfast will once again be solitary and will no longer consistent primarily of prosciutto and bread. Dinner each night will no longer be like the family gatherings of my youth, with lots of good food and many conversations going on at the same time. 

Mostly, I will miss the new members of my family, the ones recently met but now forever a part of my life.  Mauro, Paolo, Laura Uno and Nadine, you took us into your home with open arms and we felt like we had known each other for years.  We found we shared more things than what separated us, and despite the language difference we talked and understood each other.  For that, I will be eternally grateful.