Leaving Italy

Italy was everything and more. I found that I was perfectly happy in Venice. When we left, that ripened city growing smaller and smaller, the taxi boat bumping and speeding over the waves, something inside of me knotted in pain at saying goodbye. Shani and Savannah had tears; Kamree moaned in gloom; the boys looked tired and ready; I was quiet. In several hours, Europe would be a memory-- a dream, even. Vacation vanished; the ho-hum of life appeared, and the only reminisce of Italy lay in Venician glass bracelets and beads, fine hand-crafted masks, painted postcards, and amateur photographs.

I think of how similar life is to leaving Italy, so much of it bottles into our soul in the form of memories that in time fade and become distant. Memories are brought to life again by pictures, by journals, by storytelling, by smell, touch, sound, and so much of it makes me smile.