March: Days Brimming OverMy parents left today from Rome, and I for Macerata last night. All in all, these past three weeks have been filled up completely--crammed in with visits from friends and family, barely a moment free, but I'm not complaining. I was ready for it and, now that the only trace of three weeks are packs of postcards and clothes still wet from rain, it seems as if the time never existed at all.
But I know it did. Corrie and Eric were here, the three of us walking on the travertine pathway by the Tiber river and laughing about cities that started with "D" and "alla Romana"; Lori and I conquered Assisi, arriving in the midst of a pouring rain and eating cheese-filled pizza and too many potatoes and chatting until the sun came out; my parents and I laced up in hiking gear and, together with Antonello, we climbed up to Santa Maria del Sasso, a hermitage in the middle of Le Marche, to take pictures and eat a lunch of trammezzini, biscotti, and fruit.
All of this in three weeks.
And although now I am tired and resting under a sunny, cloudless sky in Macerata, I miss it all. I miss every day of everyone here, and I miss home. I even miss the chaos of it--the train tickets, the strikes, the car-sick mountain rides, my foot that took a week to heal--and would trade in my peace and quiet for just a moment of any of that. I miss seeing Rome twice, both times as different as different cities, different countries. I miss speaking English all day. I miss my family.
But I'm back here, in Macerata, and it feels, in a way, like I have come home, or at least to a second-home. Last night Antonello greeted me at the train station smiling, and we watched a movie on a quiet evening. And this morning I leaned back and read the New York Times Food Section--a gift from my parents--and slept in. After a month of everyone here, I am slowly getting back on my feet, back to the every-day. Tonight I will even cook dinner.
Thanks to all of you for coming and visiting! I miss you! Write me!
I love you, mom and dad!