The countdown is officially on for the next adventure, and boy can I tell you this is a big one. To catch you up on the latest, in the last couple months I taught a beginners Italian class and my Italian fidanzato came and visited for a couple of weeks in May! (Google it my English-speakers).
Unfortunately, the infamously unpredictable Midwest weather proved once and for all that it’s never truly Spring in Ohio. Happy travels to the United States! Oh and don’t forget to bring a winter coat and scarf in May, you’ll need those. Both of us under-dressed for a Cleveland Indian’s baseball game at least I can say that I succeeded in portraying the real American experience: suffering as a sports spectator and leaving in the 5th inning.
The day he (let’s just call him Iv for now) left me to fly back to Italy, I cried the involuntary and powerful tears of raw emotion–not because I wouldn’t ever see him again but because the thought of not seeing him in the next hour and for three long months after was unbearable. We hugged and I remember he said this is not the last hug but it is the last goodbye, the last sacrifice. That same sad day I also said goodbye to my sister and my childhood home. My sister would be back from China about a month and a half later, I already had plans to see Iv again in a little over three months and since my parents have moved to North Carolina, I will most likely never see that little green house in Toledo again. Now I’m anxiously counting down the days and starting another farewell tour. I’m busier than ever trying to spend as much time with the precious people in my life even though I know it will never be enough.
The funny thing about goodbyes is that we tend to grasp at the thoughts and hopes of happy reunions and refuse to feel the weight of the gap of when we may or may not see each other next. We distract ourselves from feeling what is happening because it is too devastating. I don’t think this changes with more experience as I have already had my fair share of goodbyes in my young life; it is a coping mechanism we all need for survival. For the first time, I’m giving myself permission to experience these feelings without trying to control them. Let me tell you this method has me in a messy soup of my swirling thoughts and crying more often than I ever have before. I know I have a one-way ticket to Rome and I know I have a hug and a kiss waiting for me there and that’s honestly about all I know for sure at this point. I am going to keep writing about it and I’m going to keep living it and feeling it. Scary as it is, in about a month I’m packing up my material life in my purple suitcase and while I think I have a pretty good idea, where we end up is still TBD.