Villa Glori

Running makes everything better. Not that things are bad. But, when our return flight to Portland left without us on Friday, it finally hit me that we're not on vacation anymore. As my friend Jami said, "you have to mourn your old life before you can accept your new life." Yesterday was my day of mourning. My day to miss my friends and to miss going to Powell's on a rainy afternoon. It was my day to be sad that Luca is far away from his uncle Justin and my parents. It was a day to sulk, to stare at the clouds and to wonder where I am. But that was yesterday.

Today I went running in Villa Glori. I ran with Lily Allen. Unlike Portland, I was able to run to a park without getting in a car. I walked down the stairs into the Piazza and aggressively crossed the busy street to the church. I walked past people in their sleeping bag jackets and I smiled. I put up the hood on my sweatshirt and I embraced the fact that I look like an American in my gym shoes, wearing an iPod. I can't fight it and I shouldn't feel self-conscious about it.

I ran past the man working at the flower stand, wondering if tomorrow he'll recognize me and if by Friday we'll be saying buon giorno to one another. I entered the park and the sound of cars and honking faded away. I ran under the canopy of trees to the top of the hill. I had run here often in 2004 but it looked different then. I hadn't noticed the kids' playground or the WWII memorial. At that time I was running with a cast on my hand, focused on the pain and the swelling. I hoped no one would say anything to me for fear of being caught like a deer in headlights unable to understand what they were saying.

Today I ran past the cross and onto a dirt trail. I saw my breathe. I stopped thinking. I laughed at the sign in the middle of the park directing people to the closest coffee cup. I enjoyed the time alone. I felt re-inspired. I came home and I wrote this post.