My time as a Perugian is winding down. I'd like to think that, despite a halo of red hairs giving me away, I have dug in enough to pass as a local. But I'm ready to uproot myself and move on. I'm ready to stay up all night in Spain and drink wine with cheese in France. And when the train once more in Italy stops, I will be ready for the reunion. I hope il Mezzogiorno will also be ready for its latest visitor.
For all the love I have for Europe, I have even more for the Midwest, my true country. I can pass for una ragazza italiana, but I am a Midwesterner through and through; I always will be. I have come to love America (absence really does make the heart grow fonder, no?). Some nights I dream I am driving on a dusty road West. Always westward... Maybe the truth is that I can never be satisfied unless I am moving from place to place, with never enough time to understand or be understood. Maybe it doesn't matter, though, because this is just who I am.
