|If this is life . . .|
~ Nancy Petralia
I'm home. Except for the fact that my face shows my lack of sleep and the bruises from my fall have not completely faded, I think I probably look all right on the outside. For each of the three days I've been home, I've followed a somewhat regular routine and dressed in my usual clothes, but I add a necklace or bracelet I bought in Italy. They keep me close to the place for the moment.
On the inside, I'm not normal. I feel strange being back.
"Are you glad to be home?" a friend asked me last evening. Before I could say anything, Mike answered.
"She'd go back in a second."
"You would?" She, like many of my other friends, can't understand why I feel that way.
|Le due torre|
Part of my discomfort, I'm sure, is due to exhaustion. Some is undoubtedly due to having been gone from the daily routine for nine weeks. Of course, the rest is due to missing la mia bella cittá.
It's going to take some time to get used to being home.
|Caffe del Drapparie|
But, this is life. We learn. We (hopefully) move forward,
|The canal in Bologna|
and we start planning the next adventure.