You probably won't even realize I'm gone, but I want you to know that I'm going to miss you. A lot. Considering our rocky start, this might come as a surprise to you. I won't bring up all the problems we had at the beginning of our relationship, but I think you know as well I as I do that you could have been a little nicer to me. In the end, though, you made up for it. (Thank you.)
Oh, the memories... Remember that time I accidentally crashed my bike into a high-heeled Italian goddess? That was actually kind of funny. Or when Corso Milano started to become my "comfort zone"? (Not so funny.) I didn't have a place to live, friends to eat with, or a sense of direction in this small city. Thank God that transition period didn't become my Veronese reality. I found an apartment. I made friends. I learned how to get around town without getting lost. I'm still running into pedestrians (and other cyclists), but that can't be helped.
Speaking of our early days, I actually owe you an apology for my behavior. I'm sorry for judging you, for talking behind your back, and for threatening to not return after the holidays. In hindsight, I see how ridiculous I was being. (It's not like you even cared if I returned or not. Duh.)
As you probably know, I chose you so I could become better connected to my distant relatives in Olfino. The plan actually worked better than expected. Not only have my great-grandfather's relatives become my real family, but his birthplace is now my second home. And something even more amazing happened...my countryside acquaintances became my friends for life. They are the truest of true friends, and leaving them is maybe the hardest part of leaving you.
I was reminded of some valuable lessons while living here:
- Language is powerful. It can bring people together or it can divide them...and sometimes it can isolate them. But really, you only need eye contact and a smile to connect with another person.
- Take a chance. Don't wait. Time is precious...and it disappears quickly.
- Open yourself up to new people and things. (This is especially good advice for you, the Capital of Closed People.)
- Be patient. With everyone. Especially yourself.
- Don't think too much. (A 90 year old man in Cinque Terre kept telling me this.)
- Life is too short to spend time with boring people. Find the interesting ones.
- Wear high heels every once and awhile. Discomfort is part of life. Embrace it.
- Keep smiling. (Even when you're alone.)
For many months I didn't understand why you called yourself the "City of Love" because love was the last thing I felt here. But during the last couple months, things started to change. Good thing I'm patient because the real Verona was worth waiting for. I'm leaving here full of love for you and for those I met along the way: my students, my new friends, my colleagues, the produce man, the girl who works at the enoteca downstairs, the security guards at the barracks, that older woman on bus #12 every Thursday at noon, the barista in the cafe across from my school, and even the mean woman next door. All these people, put together, were the puzzle pieces to my little existence here.
A quote by Tennessee Williams that pretty much sums up how I'm feeling: "There is a time for departure even when there's no certain place to go." The anxiety I feel from not knowing my next steps doesn't mean I'm supposed to stay here (although part of me would love to). Even though I'm sad to leave, it feels right.
I'm no stranger to goodbyes, but this one is especially bittersweet. How do you say goodbye to people who you care deeply for, but who you'll probably never see again??? I'm pretty much an expert at it. So here's the secret: Pretend like you will.
Ci vediamo...until we meet again...hopefully soon.
With Love,
Kristin
