Personal/ Highs/ and Lows:

     Roma. Rome. The Eternal City. The City of Seven Hills. The City of Fountains.  Home.  So many names for so many stories.
     Rome has a strong personal meaning to me.  I feel I am apart of it and that in some ways, it belongs to me.  I could never describe the moments that the city has shared with me.  Some good, some bad, but in the end it's all apart of the journey.  
     For instance, how would I accurately convey the joy of cooking in a Roman trattoria? I could not describe the fear and adrenaline rush of having a switchblade pulled on me in one of Testaccio's back alley streets.  Or explain the warmth that a bowl of delicious tornarelli alla Carbonara at my favorite restaurant Trattoria del Gino's can bring.  
     The beauty of the sun setting over the Tiber River is beyond words.  The booming sound of a homemade bombs exploding at a Roma soccer game cannot deafen your ears like they have mine.  
     Finding the point where Rome began to actually feel like home versus a temporary location is impossible.  The Forum, the Colosseo, the Spanish Steps, the Circus Maximus, the Pantheon, Piazza Navona, the Trevi Fountain, Campo Dei Fiori, and the Vatican, these were my surroundings; characters in their own right. Each left a tattoo on my heart.  
     I don't think I could recount the boyish pleasure of playing soccer in the Borghese Gardens on odd weekends to help pass the time.  Or the therapeutic practice of walking aimlessly around the city's core to ditch last night's hang over.  
     Tourists became a drag, even though I was one.  Gypsies, first a nuisance, soon added to the experience.  The enchanting charm of watching snow flakes blanket the city for the first time in 30 years cannot truly be displayed in photos (albeit majestic in their own right).  The comfort of waiters refilling an almost empty glass of wine is applicable to only those that have experienced it. Ordering a panino from Claudio, my esteemed culinary shopkeeper, may not inspire a spiritual awakening, as it has for me.
     Each moment, each second, each hour, culminated in MY Rome.  No longer a city, no longer a destination, but something more.  An indescribable place, one warm to the heart, despite so many cold realities.  I will never forget it.  Detailing every little moment, although tempting, depletes its mystical allure.  To relive the experience is impossible.  I know this, but I long to, more than anything.  Over time, I've transformed this wanting, turning it into an aching to return to my Rome.  To live there, to grow there, to perhaps die there.  My bags are packed; all I need now is a plane ticket.