It’s Thursday afternoon. On Saturday morning a car and driver will meet me here at my apartment and drive me, with whatever I’m carrying home to Seattle, to Milano Malpensa Airport. Though I’m not much of a shopper, I still have too much stuff to manage the taxi-train-plane, with all the transfers, on my own. My flight leaves at noon.
Less than two days remain for me in Milano… for now. I’ve eased the panicked voice of “I didn’t go here! I didn’t see this! I didn’t taste that!” And I’ve come to a calm reconciling of all that I didn’t experience in these near-14 months, and am beyond grateful for all that I DID.
…And I’m already talking with friends here about my return sometime next year for a month or two. (Why not?) I’ve had offers of places to stay. I want to see friends here in the north. Travel and do design research in the south. And plan a bike-tour for a week or two in central Italy. (Why not?)
So in these days, as I’m seeing my friends, I give them an Italian kiss on both cheeks and an American hug. (They don’t do that much here.) We’re not saying “goodbye”, but rather “see you later”, or “until the next time”.
“Alla prossima.”
And sometimes I blink away watery eyes.
– – –
(I DID it! I packed up and moved to Italy for over a year!
And I have faces in my mind’s eye to prove it.
It wasn’t always easy, but it was oh-so-worth it!)