The packing has begun. The Rome story is in its preface. My multi-tasking mind hasn’t wrapped itself around what’s really happening yet. Instead it’s bursting with images of boxes, books, baby items, suitcases, airport baggage fees, rental agreements and, of course, Luca. Yes, the idea of living in Europe is romantic and exciting. I am very lucky. But, and there is always a but; how will I make money? We’re spending every red cent on house repairs right now. Ironically everything is breaking; the heater, the kitchen sink, the washing machine, and the fence blew down in the recent storm. My brother told me once that when things break it’s a good sign. It’s some kind of Native American theory that a thing breaking means change is on the horizon. Confirmed. In a way it’s good that it’s happening while we’re here, but where do I find that money tree I've heard so much about? I shouldn’t complain. I’m actually not complaining; I’m worrying. But I can’t worry I have too much to do.
I am also slowly realizing that this little blog is going to become my best friend on this journey. I will confess my fears and then revel in the days when inspiration hits. I will talk to you little blog with my natural voice rather than the second grader voice I have to use in Italian. It’s interesting how I’ve built relationships in that second grader voice. My friend Kara told me once, “It’s too bad Lorenzo doesn’t understand this side of you, the slang-talking, California side.” I’m not sure I know exactly what that means but if you hang out with me after a few drinks, in a dance club with a mirror, I might start slang-talking and choreographing dances. After six years of speaking English, Lorenzo gets it now. I can only hope that after a year or so of speaking Italian, that I will get his Roman-dialect speaking side too. I won’t hold my breath waiting for him to choreograph any dances though.
