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  • Writer: Lindsey Reichert
    Lindsey Reichert
  • May 31, 2023
  • 1 min read

ET Rome Home.


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When did Rome start to feel like home. I can understand what the woman said. I’m so proud of myself for these simple words.


As we leave I can say goodbye without thinking. Even an infant in language feels like such a jump from a newborn. I can now recognize what an Italian looks like and I’m reminded that I am not one.


Off the flight and onto the train. Two tickets for the high speed. It’s leaving in 5 minutes.


Off the train to the metro. We are back baby. Metro this way or that way. Signs point to both like the scarecrow in Wizard of Oz. Yes this is Italy. No directions.


But now we are Italian. With the crowd we know where we are going. I don’t even need to look at the stops. Move the bag to my front because I know there will be pickpockets.


The crowd is moving. Ahh I’m thankful to be back in culture. Culture so deep it has roots and bones. Thrown back into the pot. Like the frog who didn’t know they were boiling, now I am fully aware of the heat. And I’m ready for it. I love it.


I’m thinking these thoughts as we move through the metro station. Up ahead I see the sign. One minute until it arrives.


I give a wink to Hannah. We can make it. Only us and the locals are running now. We know the penalty that awaits if we miss this one. 10 more minutes will be an eternity.


One two one two jump. One two one two one two jump. Just in time. Doors close.


We are back baby!

 
 
 

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