Reflecting

I’ve been putting off writing this post for several weeks now, but it needs to be written. My time in Italy has come to a close. I’ve been back in the US now for over a month, and have not really taken the time to fully reflect on the past two years or even the past two months. I shed a few tears my first day back—driving home from the airport with 3.5 suitcases full of all of my things and realizing I had no thing left in Piacenza. I no longer had a home. I have no idea when I’ll be able to see the friends who feel more like family again. After that first cry it’s been hard to reflect without fear of the dam breaking all over again.

I remember being numb the weeks leading up to moving to Italy. I didn’t quite believe it was really going to happen. And then it did! And I didn’t quite know what I’d gotten myself into. My parents had come with me to drop me off, and what could’ve been a nice 10 day vacation turned into 10 days of me not being able to eat or sleep because I was so anxious. I left them in Bologna on day 7, and I headed back to a dark and HOT (94 degrees inside!!) apartment to try to settle myself in to Piacenza. I bought a bottle of Italian wine and I started to write. I decided writing was how I would get through the two years. I was convinced I’d spend all my nights alone and friendless and missing home.

On the first day of school, I was sitting in the back of the bus and heard two girls up front speaking English. They got off at the same stop as me, Via Emilia Parmense 65, and I sped-walked to catch up to them. I felt like a kindergartener, anxiously holding my backpack and looking at my feet on the ground, as I caught up and, like a kindergartener, said “Hi, I heard you speaking English, will you be my friends?”. Thankfully, they took it well, albeit semi-skeptically, and said “Of course! What program are you in?”. We ended up all being in the same program (and not to spoil the ending but two years later I can confirm, they are two of my very best friends).

The next day they hosted all the girls in our class for a pizza and wine night, where we all talked about how we cried ourselves to sleep the night before classes started, and from then on our group has been inseparable. We’ve had two years of nights out and nights in and laughing to the point of crying and crying to the point of laughter. That first night is still one of my favorites when I look back on the past few years.

Since then, we’ve shared countless dinners, aperitivos at Bar Milano, cigarette conversations, study sessions, movie nights, long runs, market walks, karaoke nights, and morning cappuccinos. It sucks to finish a really good chapter when you have truly no idea what the next one will bring. I’m not ready to say goodbyes to these characters who have shaped me into who I am today!

To Liana, who taught me how to be better about embracing creativity and having deep conversations.

To Teresa, who taught me to be more peaceful and humble and thoughtful and hard working.

To Tori, who taught me how to check in on people.

To Ivett, who taught me to be strong.

To Sam, who taught me the importance of feeling my inner fire. 

To Mariana, who taught me how to be a better encourager.

To Lauren, who taught me that life is sweeter when you don’t have a plan.

To Kelly, who taught me how to be a host.

To Marianne, who taught me how to make each moment a good time.

To Cristina, who taught me how to feel at home wherever I am and make pasta the Italian way.

To Ivana, who taught me to say what I mean.

To Pauline, who taught me how to laugh—all the time.

To Katerina, who taught me how to be cool.

To Marte, who taught me how love more fully and freely.

To Ruby, who taught me to be confident in myself, in my body, in my beliefs.

Like so many stories that have been told before—I fell in love in Italy! But not with a man. With life. With God. With girlhood. With learning. With myself. I’m more independent but I’ve also become better at depending on others. I’ve learned so much, but there’s a lot left to learn. I’m technically poorer, but I've never felt SO rich. I've become more comfortable with being uncomfortable (because that's where the growth happens!). I left Italy standing taller than I ever had before. I left Italy braver than I have ever been before. I left Italy as a woman I’m excited to be.

I have no clue what the next chapter will bring, but thankfully I trust the Author of my story. I know He who began a good work in me will carry it out to completion. I know the people who have touched my life will be recurring characters. I want a happy ending, but more than anything I want to keep enjoying the story as I go.

I think I'll keep the blog alive but not consistent, so be on the lookout if you want to keep following along! I know I have a lot more left to say and a lot of reflecting left to do. Thank you for reading and encouraging me these past few years. I love you all!!