And so our journey home begins. The rental car has been returned after Siri lead us around and around the maze that is the Malpensa airport. We are checked in, our luggage came in well under weight, which means not many presents or trinkets from Italy (hope that's not too disappointing), and now we wait. We've just had our last croissant, which was injected with chocolate right before my eyes (a truly glorious thing), freshly squeezed orange juice, and a cappuccino (I may get another before we board the flight).
We are not sad to be coming home. Italia has overwhelmed us with her beauty. I can never unsee Michelangelo's Doni Tondo, or Bernini's Rape of Proserpina, or the Siena Cathedral of Santa Maria. I am so grateful.
I love travel for the light it shines on previously hidden corners of my world. I loved the moon rise over Venice and again in Verona, taking comfort in knowing the same moon will be there when we get home. I love staying in a place long enough for the romance to be dulled a little. I love getting that people live everywhere... perhaps not an earth shattering realization to most, but to me, seeing laundry hanging out on people's terraces is so grounding. This (wherever this may be on any given trip) is home to people, not just a playground for tourists to tromp through, snap pictures of and consume.
I bump up against some pretty unattractive parts of myself, too. That's no fun, but it rounds me into a fuller human... Kind of like the transformation of art when perspective was introduced in the Renaissance.
Anyway, now I am getting philosophical. You don't need to come along for this part of the journey. Terry used to say, just because something is interesting to ME, doesn't mean it's interesting. :o)
There's no place like home. There's no place like home. There's no place like home.
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