I reach out to turn a golden knob clung to a door that’s always been so far away that it often resembled something of the imagined.
The door creeks, opening before me an enlightened path barely visible through a dense fog.
I am here, and for once, starved for what’s to come.
Last summer, I spent wandering, remaining lost (the good kind), and awakening my curious mind.
My final destination was a beautiful Italian city called Genova.
It was, as I do believe in, love at first sight.
When my travels came to a close and the end credits began to roll, I planned to revisit within the next few months thereafter as another attempt to escape from reality and for a moment's breath amidst the chaos and distraction of everyday life.
While my plane ticket and housing awaited me in northern Italy, I took a job at a bakery to spend my time accumulating extra income.
As my departure inched closer, I felt more and more uneasy.
For starters, I wasn’t in the right headspace to be spending my days alone again day in and out.
Alongside that, the woman renting me the flat was also immensely assertive and adamant that I pay her for my two months stay before my arrival, which was an outside request.
As for my job, I was beyond anxious to leave, I filled of irritability and melancholy the entire few months I’d been there.
Everything felt off, as if dozens of “wrong way” signs were flashing in my face.
I felt so alone, I didn’t know what to do; my heart was in Italy, but it was also telling me that it shouldn’t be, and I couldn’t wrap my head around why that could be fact.
My planner has a weekly quote at the top of each righthand page…the week I was supposed to leave for Italy, the quote read, “The right choice will never feel wrong.” — Unknown
I felt as if I had nothing else, so I went with it — I cancelled my flight, my housing, and cried for a few days.
In all honesty, I wasn’t entirely upset because of not leaving a second time, but because I had nothing if I stayed in my hometown…or so I thought at the time.
