 |
| Me, cherishing the moment- Santorini |
I have, while travelling with Fran, marked every day as part
of the countdown. It’s hard to qualify that statement as a positive one. It’s
part recognising the small amount of time I have left, the precious time in
Florence; the rarity of home-made gelato every day and spending days strolling Italian
streets with the scent of leather and coffee. The other part is this tingling
anticipation of home. Of sleeping in
my bed and waking up in my bed and my family and my friends and my city and the
clear air and water, of being tucked up in the normal unchangingness of it all.
And the smallest part; the fear that I have that home is not the same. Making my family hold my cat up on skype to make sure he hasn't died. Checking that people are where they're supposed to be, that they'll be at home, that they haven't changed, that I will still fit the space that I left. That what I left, which changed, because I changed it, I won't fit back into. This smallest part, makes me fear going back and long for it.
But five weeks. It’s less than half uni semester. But it's four countries. I’ve owned
my battered travel shoes five times as long. But it's nine more places to stay. I’ve been on the road for four
times that long. But it's thirty-five more nights. It’s less than the time I was alone. And looking at the past
weeks, the time will be gone in the blink of an eye. A mix of friends and
countries and adventure. A yoga retreat in the Czech countryside, the chance
encounter in Prague that lead to beers with old friends in Budapest, watching
the elevator doors slide open onto my oldest friend, zipping along the hillside
on the back of a quad bike in Santorini, the perfect pizza in Naples.
And to look forward to? Cinque Terra, the place that
inspired my Italian wanderlust to start with, a week in Denmark, a return to
France to see everything I called home for half a year before I get to board a
plane out of London for the real thing.
No comments:
Post a Comment