When we landed on the runway I couldn't believe I was home already. The metal letters spelling out the name of the airport, Aeroporto G. Marconi Bologna, were familiar. I remember thinking how charming they were when we first landed in September.
We're back. Did we even leave?
Our time in Utah was far too short. With Christmas and two weddings, it made the whole trip one big blur. A blur full of family and food and laughter and hugs and kisses. It was a joyous blur. But a tiring one.
I miss it already. Blurriness and all.
I cried the night before we left. It just wasn't long enough. I wasn't ready to go back to Italy. I felt so at home in Utah; speaking English to everyone, knowing just what was going on, driving a car, gazing at the imposing mountains, the dry cold air. I felt so able and agile. I could get anywhere and say anything.
It is a freedom I think I've taken for granted my entire life.
But when we opened the door to our little apartment, I felt a heavy sense of belonging. At least for now. I belong here, far away from Utah, but close to the most important things. For now.