Home is where...??

Yesterday BM moved in to the apartment MR and I have been sharing for the past year and a half. Since MR and I are roommates here at the Villa, I guess it had not struck me that we have reached what I believe as a 22-year-old I can properly refer to as the end of an era. MR and I have already begun to split up our assets - the fish to her, some magnets to me - and to sell what we do not want to take to our new homes. It is actually kind of funny to be in a class together now as we have never known each other in that capacity before.

The experience at the VIlla reminds me a bit of St. Paul's - living with your classmates and teachers creates such a different learning environment. It isn't so much the talking about class out of class, but the knowing each other so much better that we understand each other better in class. At least, that's the way it seems to me. It's also more difficult to get away with BS, because in a group of 12 everyone can tell whether you did your reading or not.

After being at the Villa for less than a week, I find myself wishing that I could come up with a way to move to Italy for a year - specifically to the Villa. I have realized, though, that I would need to move my family here as well. I do not know whether it is because SB and I are so close in age or because Mommy and Daddy just raised us well, but though I of course enjoy my time away from home it seems that when everywhere I go I consider whether SB would like the beers and bars or Mommy would like the view or Daddy would like the museums that perhaps I should just bring them there and have it over with. In talks with others here I have garnished that I feel that way more than most, which I believe is because of going away to boarding school at 14. Since I left home at such a young age, we have hypothesized, it was natural for me to articulate my wishes that my family visit me or that I go visit them, and I did not break the habit upon entering or leaving college. I do not particularly want to break this habit, but I have noticed that most college students, being away from home for the first time right on the heels of the teenage years of fighting with their parents, do not have this habit at all. After the first year or two of college they will begin admitting that they like their parents and even tell their parents on the phone that they miss them, and some will even speak to their parents daily. I think, though, that leaving home right after years of fighting comes as more of a relief to most children and perhaps even to their parents, and this seems to create a different kind of independence. Personally, I am in no hurry to acquire it.

The moral of this is that I know no matter how much I love a place, I will always go home. I am not like Hemmingway or Fitzgerald; I may romanticize my time abroad, but I cannot picture myself as an ex-pat. Would I enjoy being abroad for six months, or a year? Probably I would if SB were here as well, and maybe I would if I were on my own. It is difficult to be sure of what I would enjoy and when I would begin to long for my place back in the US. The saying "home is where the heart is" trips me up. I know that by "heart" the phrase refers to the people you love, but my heart, right now, is right here between Fiesole and Florence; I am sure that I will always love this place and the calmness and happiness it seems to bring everyone who visits. I wish my family were here to see and experience it, but I do not wish I were home; my heart is not in the United States, though I know my home is.