Hope

At the risk of being overly sentimental, let me just say that this entry might be extremely overly ridiculously sentimental. Who knew that 10 years ago life would lead me in this direction? My life was a mess; turmoil brewed at every port from family to love to friends. My best friend was thinking about leaving for the military, my ex-love was revealing his ugliest face, and my dad had just suffered through a massive heart attack. I was floundering in a community college, mad that I wasn’t at a four year university, and about to pitch myself into the wind in some strange country just so I could get my brains back in the right spot. Before I left for Italy 10 years ago I wanted to be anywhere else but where I was. I wanted to be anybody other than who I was. I wanted to lose myself in a place where no one knew my name and no one cared.

I realize now that I did the most brilliant thing I could have done, considering the circumstances: I ran away to find myself. Moving to Florence was a journey that shook me so far out of what I knew to be normal that I had to reassign a definition to that word. Meeting Tom redefined what love meant. Allowing myself to fall in love again redefined what hope meant. And the fact that we are still together 10 years later redefines what trust means.

When those two girls showed up at the Trevi fountain today, it changed my whole perception of this trip. I had viewed it as something to get through, a challenge to face and conquer, and an unpleasant chore to navigate the culture every day. I had joking told a few of my friends who were jealous of my trip that it was just going to be more of the same: cooking, cleaning, and chasing after a 2 year old –just in another language in another country. Now I see that there is something more here, something waiting to be uncovered if only I listen closely and watch intently. Something is lurking in the shadowed streets, and it’s not just graffiti and dog poop. I must listen. I must be open.