Another creeps around, November blows its cool autumn breeze through my window in Southern Italy. My 26th birthday is just around the corner, remembering just last year turning 25, surrounded by my Roman boyfriend and best friends in Bari. What have I achieved in just a years time. I know who I am now, I know what I don’t want, but still struggling for what I do what. Why can't we have everything? Sitting around wondering again what this year has in store for me and my life. I am at war constantly with my two hearts. Wanting to start a life in America and stay here and continue my travels. Loving my life as a wondering, free to roam where my heart desires woman. Falling in love with places and people along the way. But tired of the search, the wander the game of travel, and wanting something more stable more tangible. Travel can never be tangible, like love or hope. All you have is your own experience and stories, but no one can take away what you have seen, done, explored. Always wanting more, another country concurred, another adventure, another story to stash into your heart of secrets. My heart is as deep as the ocean full of passion, secrets and love stories. I have seen more than most people have at my age and everyday I am blessed for my experiences. Perhaps more than most people will ever see in a life time. I have fallen in love in Indonesia under the full moon and black sand between my toes, on a tower in the middle of Seoul, on a remote island in Thailand, in the ocean smoking and drinking rum punch in Jamaica, in a bed and breakfast we called home in Rome, on the back of a motorcycle in Puglia and lastly with myself in Morocco. These are only touching the surface of what my heart holds. Again, faced with love, falling slowly this time. Not knowing what the next day holds for our future. He is sweet and caring, not my usual type. Reliable and trustworthy I walk by his side. Wanting him near me, embracing me.
But what is it that I am doing? Loving another man, falling in love again, in another foreign country? But this is now where I reside, my second year in Southern Italy, I got off the plane to Italy for the sixth time saying to myself “hello home”. It is like a second home, comfortable and good. But I know that I want more for myself, better career, higher education, higher salary. It is possible but I am delaying getting on another plane for good this time. Not wanting to come back to Italy, and not wanting to leave.
I want to be in the place that I am in that moment. Not sure what my problem is and why I can never make up my mind, I want everything and feel stir crazy when I can not touch what I want. Stirring restlessness falls heavy over my eyes, over my heart.
Perhaps what I really want is to travel, my heart is happy here. But my parents disapprove after such a long time with a backpack slung over my shoulders. They want me near, friends want me closer. This summer my backpack and I got to see a little more of the world, it kissed my nose and pleased my soul. I arrived in America tired and living out of a bag for two months, I wanted nothing more than to stay in the house I grew up in and start a life in America. I wanted to stay, not return to Italy, each time getting more difficult to come and go again. I returned back to the South of Italy to friends, an old love finished and chewed up my heart and spit it back out, a few days later falling back in love with someone new. Here now, settled here, making a routine, a life…wondering if I should return at Christmas time or stay and finish the year.
What is it that I am searching for? What is it that I want in my life, is it love, is it my passion, a true calling? Everything lined up in a row, a perfect beach house in Europe with my man cooking in the kitchen and warm air blowing my hair from my face, a place where I can be myself, paint, do yoga, and just be what I want…perhaps I am searching for my perfect place. But I have discovered that I can be content anywhere in the world, adapting my lifestyle to meet the expectations of locals around me, completely happy. Then I get the itch I desperately want to scratch the pleasure and relief, in the form of a new place, a new life. Starting over again is never easy and as I have grown it has become even more difficult. Now waiting for my new boyfriend, I speak the language, I have adapted to the culture, what is the point of moving to another country where the language and people are unrecognizable to my tired ears. Is Italy my place? Perhaps not. Maybe my place is exactly where I am in that moment, nothing more, nothing less. I wonder if I am a failure, a mess up? Or am I admirable for what I have done with my life. Having a difficult time being proud of myself or thinking anything that I have done is good enough. Always wanting more…but more of what? When is it time to stop and put down the backpack? Will this passion ever leave my soul, most likely not unless I suffer from amnesia. Again unlikely. The world calls my name and I can’t help but follow, knowing one day it will stop whispering sweet nothings into my ears. My soul is born to move to be free, but why is it that I crave that same stability and feelings of wanting to settle with one man, standing still. My destiny is to fly, it is innate in my DNA it runs through my blood, so I fly. Why fight what you know you are born to do? I was put on this earth to see every surface loving everything that crosses paths with my own. Born to be free, born to love.
How do you know when you are born to do something? Feeling everything in my heart, but not knowing what is right.