Home is where the heart is...

I'm having one of those days. The one where I wake up and stare at my ceiling wondering what in the hell I'm doing back here, in this place I call "home" ... I'm missing my apartment in the upper right corner of that small house embedded in the tuscan hills. I miss waking up at the crack of dawn because of those bloody galline across the road wouldn't shutup. I miss stepping out of bed onto the cold, tile floor, walking over to my window to open the shutters and look out on a glorious view of vineyards, olive groves, mountains and a distant church.

I look at this picture and I'm tempted to reach my hand out - as if some sort of portal would open up. One that would let me step through it to just be transported to another time and place.

It's odd to feel so out of place when surrounded by people I've known my entire life. This is my home (for now)- I keep on telling myself, "There's no place like home." .... I wonder if Dorothy ever missed Oz after her whole adventure. How does one return to Kansas anymore after knowing such a beautiful place exists? I'm not necessarily comparing Oz to Italy. Italy had it's moments.

But is it possible to have homesickness of a place that isn't really home? Truth is, I felt more at home over there with a group of foreign room-mates, than I do here.

Just don't tell my papá. He can be a bit dramatic... I'm thinking it's more of a southern Italian thing. When my oldest brother finally decided to pick up and move into his own apartment at 30, my father was overcome with such confusion.

for example:

Brother: "Pa, I found an apartment and I'm movin' out this Saturday."

Papá: "Wha? Whadda you meana you move outta dis saturday? Why? You no like here?"

Me: "How about because he's THIRTY and it's ABOUT TIME he moves out of the basement papá!?" Honestly now.

I think all Italians have this contract that their baby boy "signs" once born...That's why they take baby's fingerprints. They just put the kid's finger print by the line marked with an 'X' saying that this child will agree to being babied until they're at least 30, will eat and love mom's pasta, visit nonna every sunday and worship the ground their father walks on, wear a gold chain with a crucifix, etc. etc... I could go on but I don't want to judge...