We have been back in the good ole U.S. of A. for right at 3 months. It seems like a lot longer. It also seems like I was in my little apartment in Fuorigrotta only yesterday.
Since coming back we have had to relearn how to live as Americans. The first few weeks were hard. Going from being surrounded by 1.5 million people, walking most places and taking public transportation to others, buying fresh fruits and vegetables for almost nothing to 6,000 people, driving everywhere, and Wal-Mart has been, to say the least, challenging.
I have stated this fact a few times and someone once asked,”What’s so hard about it? You lived in America much longer than you lived in Italy.” That’s true. And honestly, I cannot imagine how hard it must be for those who have lived longer in other countries than their home country. But nevertheless, it is difficult.
It is difficult because I loved my life in Naples. I loved my friends. I loved going to the market and shopping. I loved the art of making a great meal from hardly any ingredients at all. I loved sitting in the kitchen of my neighbor, drinking tea and talking about everything and nothing at the same time. I loved taking a walk every afternoon. I loved worshiping at church with people who are unashamedly in love with their Savior. I loved squeezing into a four-seater car with five other people. I loved the slow-paced attitude of everyone. I loved walking to get a gelato across the street. I loved making the hour-long trip to see the Worthy’s. I loved the oldness that surrounded me around every corner and that it was all new to me. I loved the smell of freshly baked cornetti in the morning. I loved meeting people I knew on the street everyday. I loved old Italian ladies teaching me how to cook.
I loved my life.