On missing Roma

“Rome is the city of echoes, the city of illusions, and the city of yearnings.” Giotto de Bondone


“…the grandeur that was Rome…” from “To Helen” by Edgar Allan Poe

I am finally recovering from my bout of blues. I slept for seven hours last night, in fits and starts as has been my habit since I became a parent, but much better than four or five hours for sure. My appetite has returned. Yesterday was one of my typically busy days: exercise, work, socializing, shuttling my daughter to class, cooking dinner, spending time with our new puppy. I am home, nearly a week after I boarded several planes to make my way home.

When I visit any destination for more than a couple of days, I do experience homesickness. I find that I also experience a sort of vacation-sickness once I am home, that I do feel a temporary sense of loss and yearning to be back in my home away from home.  The longer I stay, the longer I may miss that other place, that different life. 

My third visit to Rome was nothing short of transformative. Almost as soon as I stepped into the humidity and heat of a Roman summer, I felt a great sense of relief, freedom, and possibility. Granted the trip was a 40th birthday present to me and my little family, so it makes sense that it would feel like a milestone and/or emotional journey. It was both. 
















I do miss the cobblestones beneath my feet. The heat. The crowds on the trains and on the city streets. The expanse of sky.  The dark coolness of little churches and immense cathedrals.

But I’m no longer sad. 

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