Allora, Aspetta!

Two and a Half Weeks

So I'm leaving. I'm going back home to Italy after this two and half week long impromptu visit to the states, and I already know it's going to be tough going back. These two weeks have been rather solid weeks--good long days, early-to-bed evenings, plenty of time spent with family, and moments stolen here and there with friends. Every time I come back to this house, to these memories and the warmth and love of family and friends from home, I feel like getting my feet back on that plane--soaring back to Macerata--is a challenge. I love my life in Italy, but boy do I miss my life right here in America.

I've done a lot these past couple of weeks. I got back into running finally (hope to keep that up in Italy!), I went out to lunch and dinner a dozen times with friends, I got to see my friend Allison who drove all the way up to Indy from St. Louis to see me (yay! Thanks Al!), I took morning walks with my mom, I shopped, I went to church. However, in all of that time, I didn't even get to give up my teaching job completely. Wednesday afternoon of this week, I taught Italian language and culture to my dad's seventh grade class: a quick 50 minutes of hoosier-sounding ciaos and piaceres and basic Italy overviews. Although some kids didn't know much about Italy when the class started (Name an Italian City: "I know, I know!...Greece?" or Name a famous person who lives in Italy: "Oh! What's your husband's name? Is he famous?"), the hour ended with students pronouncing Modigliani correctly and firmly shouting "Arrivederci!" as I left.

Perhaps teaching about Italy made it more clear how much this Italian life has become a part of me, that it is very much my adopted home, and I miss it like I do my own country. Tonight, as I stuff that last jar of banana peppers, that box of jelly bellies, and that tin of maple syrup--suitcases full of American memories--into the deep dark corners of my luggage, I try to remember that. There's a big part of me that simply longs for the welcome sight of my (famous) husband at the airport and the feel of his arms again. I miss everything from driving through the countryside to eating dinner at my house, and I miss my Italian friends. And if I think on that enough, those thoughts are all I need to get myself on that plane heading east.

But we'll take off tomorrow, drive up north to Chicago to catch a plane at O'Hare, and there will be a moment, halfway there, when I'll feel displaced. Looking out at the familiar grid of this home where my family lives--where my memories have dug deep holes into the landscape and stubbornly placed roots--I will be in between something. I will be caught in the middle of moving back from one home to another. It's a strange feeling, a kind of homesickness that doesn't know if it misses the Italian hill towns or the Indianapolis skyline.

Yet all along I've known that the answer is simple: this kind of homesickness misses both places: the familiar patterns of home that have been lucky enough to find themselves in two different places, making each one longed for in those moments in between.

-Jackie

Corrie, Cassie, and Eric: I'll miss you guys! Hi to Jill and Jerry--it was great to see you! Allison, you too! Congrats to Maura on the race! Hope it went well. Family--I love you.

posted by Corrie @ 5:02:00 AM