What I Brought Back From Italy

It isn’t what the movies promised me.

Photo by author

First, these are the things I didn’t bring back from my ten days in Italy.

I didn’t bring back a young Italian lover. I didn’t even leave one there, although I was open to falling in love in a romantic place with someone speaking a romantic language. Didn’t happen. The best I did was buy art from one.

Photo of terrana_studio by author.

I didn’t bring back the deed to a 300 year old crumbling farm house. Nor one to a struggling vineyard. I won’t have to invest money, sweat, time and blood into renovating the imagined house, or rejuvenating the forgotten vineyard.

Photo by author

I didn’t bring back more than one or two extra pounds, even though I ate pasta twice a day, bread with every meal, and gelato daily. Oh, and there was wine involved.

I didn’t bring back a tube of hair gel I left in Florence, and a top and shawl I left in Montorrosso, in a pitiful attempt to lighten my damned suitcase.