Addio

At long last we are leaving! We have escaped bureaucratic purgatory, we have wrestled our way out of the Twilight Zone, and in 24 hours we will be headed for the airport to embark on this adventure. Finalmente.

Excitement and fear mingle together; I alternate between butterfly flutterings and heart-pounding trepidation. A move to another country, another language. Ancient streets and wonderful food. These are my convergent thoughts. After the delays it seems somehow unreal, but I'm also ready to be on our way!

Our friends, Giorgio and Francesca, who have so graciously offered us the use of their summer home, will meet us at the airport. I fear they will faint when they see the load of luggage that will be accompanying us. I am sure all these over-stuffed bags will not fit in the trunk of their car and have reserved a rental, for the transportation of our goods, mostly clothing and some books. I wish we could pack lighter; I wish I could take more. It's a dilemma; what do we need? I think we need the entire wardrobe. Then frustrated at the girth and weight of the offending bags, I think we should just go with a suitcase each and our passports (stamped with all the all-important visas!)

My anti-jetlag plan, devised by my friend, personal trainer, and all around smart-girl, Maria, strictly forbids caffeine or alcohol for 48 hours before (as well as during) the flight. I can do without the booze, but no cappuccino? No green tea at my Japanese meal in Cleveland tonight? I'm quivering at the thought, but then recall the disaster of jetlag, how I felt like a zombie for two days on my last trip. I'll muster through.

We must finish packing, finish cleaning, visit my grandparents. That's going to be the most difficult. My maternal grandma is 95. My paternal grandpa is 93. One of the good points of the delay has been the extra time I've been able to spend with them. Still, I can't help but wonder if I'll see them again, and tear up at the prospect of goodbye. I must bid adieu to my sister, who has lived close by in location and heart for the past ten years. My closest friend. It's been rainy for days, reflecting my misty feeling inside. No regrets, but heart-felt emotion.

We are leaving tomorrow. We are flying over the ocean on a 777 which is, I am told by a friend, "the cat's meow". Tomorrow. A new life begins in a ancient land. Tomorrow.
Addio!